Life on Thedas
by Hazza137
Summary: A young man awakens on the field of Ostagar, apparently transported from another world. Joining the Warden, he must face danger at every turn - and learn to separate fiction from reality. F!Cousland/Alistair and OC/Morrigan.
1. Prologue: Pilot

_A/N: I know what you're thinking. 'Oh, another self-insert, _so _original!' Then you're going to read this chapter to see if it's awful enough to be a trollfic. The difference here is that I'm going to put in effort. Everyone's going to be in character, VERY limited plot warping and… well why don't you stick around and find out for yourself?_

_Dragon Age: Origins is owned by Bioware and EA Game. The song 'Life on Mars' belongs to David Bowie, and the TV show Life on Mars belongs to the BBC. I am he is you are he as you are me and we are all together – I mean, I am me. Read on, dear viewer.

* * *

_

_It's a god-awful small affair/to the girl with the mousey hair…_

**Life on Thedas**

Prologue: Pilot

'_Vexations. Piece for solo piano. Music of Erik Satie. Three lines of music. Tritones in every chord. Trés lent for a tempo marking. Thirty-four chords. One bass line to be played twice after that. Eight hundred and forty repetitions of all of the material. Maximum running time of approximately eighteen to nineteen hours. In its entire performance history, it has never been played by a single player. Those that tried had to stop due to hallucinations.'_

I had just finished reading _Mass Vexations_ and the sequel the night it happened. Looking back on it, it was such obvious foreshadowing I would have kicked myself upside my head had I known what was going to happen. I remember when I finished I looked up from my desk. I didn't have many PC games, but displayed prominently were _Dragon Age: Origins _and _Awakening_. I had recently finished a complete run of the game, _Awakening _and _Witch Hunt_ included. I also remember what I said.

"Being inside Dragon Age would probably be cool too."

God, what a moron. I want to punch past-me in the mouth.

I remember what happened afterwards as well. I got a call from some friends. They wanted me to come and hang out with them that night. I accepted. When I got in the car, I looked in the mirror. The face that looked back had short dark brown hair and blue eyes, clean-shaven. It was a fairly uneventful drive, ironically enough. That was until I heard what sounded like a scream. I stopped the car so fast I thought the brakes would screech. I turned off the engine and listened.

I couldn't hear anything else. I turned the car back on and turned up the radio. I was only half-listening to it when I heard another scream. Louder. Closer. This time I reacted instantly. I practically leaped out of the car and stood in the middle of the deserted road. I stared intently into the blackness that faced me, trying to penetrate it. It was creeping me out.

I heard a noise behind me.

I turned, and suddenly the noise was coming from all around me. It was horrible, like a thousand insects buzzing inside my ear all at once. It sawed at my brain, and I clutched my ears. The noise built up to a fever pitch, and I looked up over the roof of the car. In front of me was something I never thought I'd see. It was as if the air had torn like a huge cloth. Something was inside the hole I physically couldn't focus on. When I tried, my eyes just slid away. I'd had enough. Hands over my ears, I stumbled backwards, anything to get away from the sound.

That was when the car hit me.

I had parked past a bend in the road. The night hid me until it was too late for the driver to stop. The infernal noise stopped me from hearing the car until it was right on top of me. It felt like a rhinoceros had charged me, and I felt myself roll up onto the bonnet of the car, bouncing off the windshield. I rolled back off and landed hard on the road, burning pain permeating every part of my body. I heard the car keep going. No witnesses.

I was fighting to stay awake. Darkness was eating at the edge of my vision, but the pain was excruciating. In my struggles I managed to roll over, and suddenly that weird rip was back in my sight. It was the last thing I saw before I fell unconscious. The last thing I heard? David Bowie on the radio.

* * *

_But her mummy is yelling "no"/and her daddy has told her to go…_

The pain was back, but not as bad as it had been. In fact, it seemed to have moved a little. I groaned, rising from my brain-addled sleep like I was trapped under a thick layer of tar. I shifted a little, wondering if anyone had picked me up and taken me to hospital. I took in a grateful breath of fresh air.

Then the smell hit.

It was the coppery smell of blood, coupled with the smell of rot and decay. What little food I had in my stomach rose with a vengeance. I rolled onto my stomach, raised myself onto all fours and hurled. It was then I realized that I was sitting on grass, not bitumen. I opened my eyes. Yes, definitely grass. Had I been moved to the side of the road. Then I looked up.

Bodies. Bodies as far as I could see. Men lay dead all around me, strewn about like a massive child had decided he'd had enough of his army men. They lay broken, smeared with blood and cut open like sacks of meat. The early-morning twilight made it hard to see, but it was a small mercy. The man next to me had his face frozen in a rictus of terror, and I started away from him. What the hell had happened here?

I looked again, realizing for the first time what the dead men were wearing – armour. Medieval armour, to be precise. Most were only in leather or chainmail, but I saw a few wearing heavier plate. Broken and bloodstained shields lay strewn around, as well as a few discarded helmets. I slowly crawled away, trying to find somewhere away from the bodies. It was then I realized something else. I was wearing armour as well. It was leather armour, boiled until rock-hard. I touched the part just above my injury and felt the leather had buckled. It was as if someone had hit me with a mace. I looked up, desperate to find anything that might explain where I was and how I got here. I got my answer.

There were ruins nearby. I knew what they were. I knew what they were called. My lips formed the word, but no sound came out.

_Ostagar.

* * *

_

_But her friend is nowhere to be seen/Now she walks through her sunken dream…_

I ripped off my helmet and ran my fingers through my hair, refusing to believe it. This is impossible, I told myself. This can't happen. You read about this in fanfics, but it DOESN'T HAPPEN! I was hyperventilating and this point – understandable, really. I slowly stood up, equal parts frightened and wary. I had no idea how long it had been since the battle at Ostagar. I didn't know if there were Darkspawn still around.

"Oh Christ, oh Christ what do I do?" I muttered to myself, hysterical. My armour was smeared with blood, and I was injured. Had I been part of the battle? Was I a different person in this universe? First things first, I have to get away from this place. Those bodies… I can't look at them.

There was a sword lying on the ground. I picked it up, and was surprised at how heavy it was. People are supposed to use these with one hand? I untied a scabbard from a dead man's belt, feeling dirty as I did. I stumbled away from the battlefield, feeling sick and alone. My thoughts whirled as I tied the sheathed sword to my belt. Barring the other questions, what was I here for? Was I supposed to join the Warden's party? If so, then I was screwed. The Warden ends up at Flemeth's hut after the battle, and then Morrigan guides them out of the Wilds to Lothering. I was stuck at Ostagar without even knowing which way was north!

I heard a metallic clashing noise. I stopped dead in my tracks, my hand going to the hilt of my stolen sword. It was coming from deeper in the forest. Whoever it was, it was company – something I needed. I dashed off towards the sound, my thoughts still whirling almost completely detached from my body.

How the hell am I supposed to get home?

* * *

_To the seat with the clearest view/and she's hooked to the silver screen…_

I finally came to the source of the noise. I was standing on top of a small escarpment just within the Kocari Wilds proper. Below me were five figures and three corpses. The corpses seemed to be Darkspawn, as were four of the figures. The fifth was human. He was wearing heavy chainmail and wielded a mace and shield. As I watched he battled the four Darkspawn. His movements were slow and jerky, as if he were wounded. He was jarred by several strikes to his shield, and countered with a crushing blow to the head of a Genlock. The small Darkspawn crumpled, something dark and wet leaking from its cracked skull. The warrior paced back, putting some space between him and his three remaining opponents.

The Darkspawn came on. I realized that there was a Vanguard amongst the attackers, wielding a massive greatsword. The blade was almost as long as I was tall! The warrior ducked a wide sweep and countered with a smash to the Vanguard's stomach. The Darkspawn's armour held, and it returned with a pommel-strike. The heavy piece of metal caught the warrior dead in the forehead, and he crumpled. I heard what sounded like a guttural laugh, and the Vanguard raised its sword.

"NO!" I yelled. The world was still and silent for a second that seemed to stretch forever. The Vanguard slowly turned to look at me. The Hurlock and Genlock accompanying it jeered at me, eager for another victim. I jumped down the short gap and drew my sword. It didn't make the impressive _shing_ sound I was expecting. I held it up in both hands, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I thought it would burst out. A part of me was regretting drawing the Darkspawn's attention. The Vanguard seemed to order the other Darkspawn to go after me, and turned back to the warrior. There was a loud _crunch_ and the Vanguard growled in pain. The warrior's mace was buried in its groin, one of the places with the weakest armour. The Vanguard toppled and the warrior hammered its helmet until it caved in, dark blood leaking from the eye slit.

That just left me to deal with a Hurlock and a Genlock. Without any prior experience with a sword. This was going to suck.

* * *

_Take a look at the lawman/beating up the wrong guy…_

I had to make a decision fast. I still didn't know if I could take them. I knew the Darkspawn at Ostagar were weak because it was the start of the game, but this was real life. Everything – even the unpleasant gory details – were so close to life I was having a hard time believing it came from a video game. More importantly, the Darkspawn were frighteningly detailed. The Genlock looked like a psychotic dwarf, ready to pounce on me and eat my head. The Hurlock was taller than me, its face a mess of sickly grey flesh and bloodstained fangs. They were going to kill me. My sword wavered and I was about to turn and run.

"Don't be afraid, boy!" the downed warrior called. "They bleed and die like any creature!"

Except their blood can taint you if it gets in you and then it turns you into a mindless ghoul or something worse and- STOP THINKING! I raised my sword, faking confidence. My thoughts raced. Genlocks had less health in the games, right? I should go for it first. I swung wildly at the Genlock, stepping to my right to get closer to it while moving further away from the Hurlock. The Genlock easily dodged, and I had difficulty bringing the sword up again.

"Parry!" the warrior bellowed. I spun, my sword flying up. By pure chance it collided with the Hurlock's twisted black sword, knocking it away from me. There were no dramatic sparks, but there was a jarring impact up my arm. I danced away.

"Press the attack, boy!" the warrior yelled. I swung reflexively and caught the Hurlock off-guard. It had been starting a swing of its own and hastily diverted to parry. It was a clumsy parry, one that left my sword close to its body. Lashing out, I scored a small cut on its right shoulder. Dark blood began to leak from it, but the Hurlock showed no reaction.

"Good!" the warrior continued, "Don't let your guard down!" I swung again, a wild backhand chop. It knocked aside the Genlock's shortsword and knocked it off-balance. I lunged and swung again. The weapon's length worked in my favour, the tip cutting into the Genlock's throat. Its eyes bugged out as blood pumped from the wound.

"Behind you!" the warrior shouted. I dived to the side, landing flat on my back. The Hurlock's thrust cut the air where I had been. I tried to get up, but the Hurlock was on me before I could move. It swung for my head and I hastily parried, but I lost grip on my weapon. The sword dropped to the dirt, but before I could grab it the Darkspawn kicked it aside. I kicked up desperately, my foot striking it square in the stomach. The Darkspawn seemed winded and staggered back.

"My shield!" I looked to my side. The warrior had slipped his arm free of his round metal shield and slid it over to me. I hooked my arm into the straps and lifted it up just as the Hurlock came back for another attack. The strike rebounded off the shield with an ear-splitting _clang_, jarring my arm. Another strike was blocked.

"Use your shield!" the warrior yelled. I took the hint, and slammed the edge of the shield into the Hurlock's knee as hard as I could. Too hard, apparently, as I heard a sickening _crunch_and saw the Hurlock buckle. I didn't try to get up – I just rolled over to the sword. The hurlock hobbled after me, its swings rebounding off my shield. I snatched up my sword as my right leg scythed out. The Hurlock toppled, and I managed to scramble to my feet. It was incredibly hard holding the sword and shield up at the same time, but with all the adrenaline pumping through me I managed it.

The Hurlock drew back its arm for a massive forehand swing. I charged, my shield high and close on my left side. I let out a strangled, hysterical yell and plunged my sword into the Hurlock's chest. It stopped, and blood oozed from the wound. I wrenched the blade out and staggered back, watching the Hurlock die. It held a hand to the wound and staggered towards me, arm still raised. Finally, it tripped and fell. It was dead.

At which point I passed out.

* * *

_Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know/he's in the best selling show…_

"Wake up! Wake up, boy!"

I cracked open an eye. It was the warrior I'd helped, crouched above me. Great – I was still in Dragon Age. I groaned and sat up, my sword and shield suddenly feeling like they were made of lead.

"Next time, remember not to hold your breath," the warrior remarked. "It's the mistake everyone makes their first time."

I noticed the dark blood covering the blade of my sword. I wiped it on the grass, well aware of what Darkspawn blood can do. I sheathed it and looked over to the warrior.

"And to whom do I owe my rescue?" the man asked.

Crap in a bucket! I hadn't thought of this. Should it be an Aerith or a Bob? Think of a fake name, think of a fake name…

"My name is… V… Ventus," I stammered. What the hell? Why, of all the names I could have picked, I chose that one! Hopefully in a universe with names like Niall or Uldred…

"Good to meet you, Ventus," the warrior replied. "My name is Malcolm."

Phew, I'm safe.

"Please, call me Ven," I said. Oh God, next think you know you'll be sounding like Jesse McCartney. I stood up, and offered a hand to help the injured warrior. He refused.

"My wound's getting worse," he said. "Damn Darkspawn got me with a dagger while I wasn't looking. I've got bandages in my pack – it's over there."

So I guess health doesn't automatically regenerate after a fight anymore – and when someone says they need bandages they actually get them applied. I dug through Malcolm's backpack, past some food and water and found some bandages. I returned, and Malcolm showed me his wound. It looked pretty bad. Malcolm hoisted off his chainmail and his dirty tunic. I wrapped the bandages as tightly as I could and knotted it. I pressed my hands as hard as I could against the wound. Malcolm hissed in pain, but the bleeding seemed to slow.

"That actually feels a lot better. Thank you," he said. He put his armour back on and stood up, walking slightly unsteadily back to his pack.

"Do you have a map?" I asked, wondering if this was my way out of the Wilds.

"Don't need one," he replied. I was puzzled, then suddenly it hit me.

"Are you Chasind?" I asked.

"Smart boy," Malcolm said, shouldering the pack. "I'll be wanting my shield back, though."

I gave it to him. "You must be a great warrior. You killed five Darkspawn all by yourself!"

Malcolm shrugged. "It's what I do." As he said this, he wiped some Darkspawn blood off his face. It smeared, partially dry, and he seemed to get a little in his mouth. But he didn't seem to care. Did that mean… ?

"Are you… a Grey Warden?" I asked.

"Right again, boy," Malcolm replied. "The last one, it seems. Unless Duncan's new recruit made it out alive."

New recruit. It has to be the player character. The only question is, who is it? There isn't a canon Warden, unless you count the one in the Sacred Ashes trailer. At this point Malcolm took off his helmet, and I noticed he had a tattoo. It looked just like the one on the Sacred Ashes Warden. Wait, wasn't there supposed to be a Chasind Origin at one point? I'm actually looking at another PC Warden!

"Can I come with you?" I asked. "I have to get to Lothering."

"Sure, lad," Malcolm replied, patting me on the shoulder. "Just leave the Darkspawn-slaying to me. At least until you learn how to hold that sword."

Malcolm moved off. I followed him, thoughts whirling in my head again. What had happened back home? Were my friends worried? Were my family looking for me? How was I going to get home? Most of all, had I just fought two Darkspawn and won?

Welcome to life on Thedas, I thought glumly.

_Is there life on Mars?_


	2. Chapter 1: Introductions

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; after a freak car accident, our hero finds himself on the battlefield of Ostagar. Arming himself, he saves the life of a Chasind Warden named Malcolm. Now he journeys to Lothering, hoping to catch up to the mysterious Warden._

Chapter One: Introductions

One of the major things I quickly learned about the Dragon Age universe upon arrival was that everything is a long way away. I longed for a loading screen to break the tedium of the endless trek. I was growing paranoid that Darkspawn would attack, but remembered that Grey Wardens can sense Darkspawn. Then I remembered that a whole keep full of Wardens gets ambushed by Darkspawn in _Awakening_, and realized that Grey Warden abilities are wildly inconsistent. Malcolm was a quiet travelling companion, but a nice enough man. When we first stopped to make camp, I asked him how far it was to Lothering. He told me we'd get there when we got there.

While Malcolm started the fire, I stepped away from the camp and drew my sword. It still felt way too heavy, and I had to hold it with both hands to keep it steady. I did a few practice swings.

"You're doing it wrong." I turned. Malcolm was watching me.

"You're holding it like a club," he went on. "A sword should feel like an extension of your arm. You don't 'swing' a sword, you guide it."

I adjusted my grip and tried a forehand swing. This time I tried just holding the sword and moving my arms. It felt a lot easier, and it took the weight off my wrists and distributed it more evenly along my arms.

"Good," Malcolm said. "Now twist your body when you strike. Put the weight of your body behind the sword."

My swings became more energetic. I was moving in time with the blade, shifting with the flow of my strikes. I was only able to keep it up for a short while when my arms began to burn. I lowered the sword, panting. I definitely needed to get into shape – but I already had a fairly strong build. I sheathed my sword and sat down across from Malcolm.

"Not bad for a farm boy," Malcolm remarked. "A few years and you may even achieve mediocrity."

He shared some of his food and water with me. I only had a little, still feeling sick from the battlefield. The meal was silent for a while.

"So," Malcolm piped up between chews, "Where do you come from, boy?"

"Very far away," I replied. Well, it was true.

"What about your parents?" He went on. "Do they know you joined up?"

My parents. Oh God, what must they be thinking? They must think I'm dead! I never got to say goodbye to them…

"N… no," I said finally. "I snuck off one day and found the army. They probably don't know where I am."

"Then what does Lothering hold for you?" Malcolm asked. "Your parents would not be there."

"No," I replied, "But hopefully someone else will."

Should I tell him? How do I justify it? Well, it can't really hurt…

"I heard that two Grey Wardens were at the Tower of Ishal when the King was overrun," I said. "I'm hoping that they survived the battle. The way I see it, Lothering is the best place to start."

Malcolm nodded. "As for myself, I do not know. I may be the last Grey Warden in Ferelden. Even if some of my brothers and sisters did survive, we cannot achieve much. Our armies were broken at Ostagar, and I fear the nobles will not settle their differences soon enough."

I nodded. Oh, you have no idea Malcolm. I just hope you're at the Landsmeet when the Warden convinces everyone. That was always my favourite part.

Malcolm helped me build a shelter for myself. I took off the top half of my armour and rolled it up as a makeshift pillow. You know the other thing the games didn't really show? How ball-freezingly cold it is in Ferelden. I shivered and tossed and turned, but I eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

The next day we set off after a short breakfast. I decided to strike up a conversation with Malcolm, asking him how I should go about training with my new sword. He explained that while I had the basic physique for it, I didn't have enough fitness for an extended battle. So he told me I had to travel with my sword raised and his shield up. I instantly regretted talking to him. When we stopped for the night, he gave me another quick lesson in sword work.

We travelled like this for a few days, and each night I was so exhausted I fell asleep instantly, not caring about the cold. Malcolm was getting stronger too. He changed his bandages less frequently and walked normally. At long last, we came to the highway that led into Lothering. Then as we approached Lothering we practically tripped over a slaughtered company of bandits.

"These men died very recently," Malcolm said, checking the bodies. "Two people at least, one of them a mage."

That would be Morrigan. It seems the Warden of this universe – besides Malcolm, that is – decided to murder the bandits as well. Malcolm and I left the highway and approached Lothering. I glanced to my right at the refugee camp. The game hadn't properly shown just how crappy it was. There were sick and injured people everywhere and most looked like they were starving. I winced and looked away.

"That's the realities of war, lad," Malcolm said. He greeted a farmer standing nearby and asked if he'd seen any more survivors from Ostagar, particularly Grey Wardens. The farmer's expression hardened at the words.

"You a Grey Warden too?" he asked suspiciously.

"I am," Malcolm replied, growing irritated. "What of it?"

"You'd best clear off, then," the farmer sneered. "I know where my loyalties lie. I won't help traitors."

"What?" Malcolm sputtered. "Traitors? Explain yourself!"

"We know what you people did," the farmer spat. "You killed King Cailen. Your kind would have been the end of us all if Teyrn Loghain hadn't pulled his men out in time."

"I have had enough of this," Malcolm turned away furiously.

"You're not going anywhere," the farmer said. Malcolm looked back at him, confused.

"I couldn't take the last two that came through," the man said threateningly, revealing a hidden club, "But this time I brought friends."

I spun, drawing my sword. Three men appeared from the crowd of refugees, clutching axes and hoes. Another man each side appeared, completing the circle of six men around us. I ended up back-to-back with Malcolm, my sword ready. The farmer's faces were twisted into snarls of hatred, and it honestly terrified me. Darkspawn were one thing, but I didn't know if I could kill another person. Then something happened I didn't expect.

Malcolm laughed. It was a loud, braying laugh. It carried across the space and made the farmers pause. Malcolm ran a hand across his face and smiled dangerously at the farmer.

"This is it?" he asked, amused. "This is all you could spare? I have killed more Darkspawn than you have had days of life. Dealing death is as commonplace to me as breathing."

Malcolm's smile disappeared and he gave the ringleader a dangerous glare.

"I would advise you to return when you are ready."

The anger drained away from the scene. The farmers shifted and fidgeted awkwardly, waiting for a signal from their leader. He glanced at each of his men, and realized that what little confidence they'd had was now draining away in the face of the Warden.

"You get to live another day, Warden," he snarled, and left. His men left as well, none wanting to be the last facing the angry Grey Warden. Once they had all gone, Malcolm sighed. Good work with the Intimidate check, Malcolm! Someone put points in Coercion, I see.

"This is bad," he said. "Now my authority is a curse. I cannot stay here, unless I want the entire village up in arms at my presence."

"But where are you going?" I asked, suddenly worried. So far Malcolm was the only friendly person I'd met, and I didn't think I could find the Warden alone. Malcolm sensed my worry and patted me on the head. He wordlessly handed me his shield, and I took it.

"I'm sure you'll find who you're looking for," Malcolm reassured me. "I will stay in the Wilds for a time, and monitor the Darkspawn. When tensions have cooled, I will return."

Malcolm turned away from me. I wanted to call out and ask him to stay – but I didn't. I let him walk away, and watched him disappear into the forests of the Wilds. It was then I finally realized what had happened. Malcolm would have died if not for me. By helping him, I'd changed the course of Dragon Age's story. Now even if I did find the Warden, I would have to deal with a wild card hiding behind the scenes. I shook my head and turned away, hand on my sword. I couldn't waste time now. I had to find the Warden.

I could barely believe it. A few days in Ferelden and I'm almost lynched. I walked straight past the tavern, figuring the Warden had already been there and recruited Leliana. I decided that I'd go to the 'zone exit' and see if Bodahn and Sandal were there. If not, I'd know that I'd missed the Warden.

"Stay away!" I heard a voice yell. That was Bodahn's voice. I jogged towards it, sword half-drawn. I came to the highway and saw Bodahn and his son being menaced by Darkspawn. This was it! The Warden _has_ to come here and see this event! All I have to do is wait!

I waited. I watched. The Warden didn't come. I looked back. The Vanguard backhanded Bodahn, knocking the dwarf to the ground. I was confused. That didn't happen in the games. The Warden should have been here…

Oh no. This is just like _Vexations_. The PC was in different places at different times there, too. If that's the case, that means Bodahn's going to die if I don't do something! I see six Darkspawn there – a Vanguard, three Hurlocks and two Genlocks. I don't remember if it's the same as in the game, but I know I have to do something. I drew my sword quietly, trying not to alert them. I gripped the handle so tight my knuckles turned white, and I breathed deep. You can do this.

I can't really be doing this. I'm not about to take on six Darkspawn by myself. But I know deep down that I have to. I know that it's the only way I can join the Warden and have a fighting chance getting myself home. I headed right, parallel to the highway, and clambered up the hill where it rose to meet the road. After a short struggle I was on the highway behind the six Darkspawn. The two Genlocks were closest, armed with bows. I crept closer, my sword still feeling too heavy for one hand.

I swung. The blade hacked deep into the Genlock's throat, killing it near-instantly. I turned to the next and killed it with a surprise backhand chop. The Darkspawn heard me, and the remaining four turned to meet me. I huddled behind my shield, scared out of my mind. I was going to die unless somebody helped me.

The Vanguard charged me, swinging its greatsword up over its head. I dodged to the left, and the sword smashed against the ground harmlessly. My sword whipped up in response, but bounced harmlessly off the Darkspawn's helmet. I danced back out of reach, my leather armour letting me stay light on my feet. The Hurlock on the left and right attacked simultaneously. I stepped to the left and swung my sword wildly. The left-hand Hurlock parried it easily, but I ended up out of danger. The Vanguard came at me again, swinging wide and flat this time. I ducked under and tried to counter again. The blade bounced off its stomach plate, and I stumbled on. The third Hurlock came after me. I spun and took the blow on my shield, the shock making me stagger back. I tried a retaliatory strike, but the Hurlock parried. Acting out of desperation, I Sparta-kicked the Hurlock. It stumbled and tripped, toppling off the highway. I didn't know if it was dead, and I didn't care.

The first Hurlock came at me again. I tried to ward it off with a forehand swing. It parried the blade aside. My body was still moving, and my shoulder slammed into the Hurlock's chest, knocking it over. Before I could try to capitalize on this, the second Hurlock and the Vanguard came at be at the same time. I darted away, but the Hurlock was too fast. It slammed into me, and I pitched over onto the ground. We rolled over, and the Hurlock ended up on top. It pinned my shield-arm with its knee. I desperately fended its sword-arm away, knowing that there was no way out of this situation for me.

An arrow sprouted from the Hurlock's neck. It just went limp and toppled off me. I scrambled to my feet, and looked up. It was Leliana. She was still in her Chantry robes, and as I watched she nocked another arrow in her shortbow. It skittered off the Vanguard's chest-plate, not penetrating its thick armour. The Vanguard apparently forgot about me, charging towards the Orlesian bard. Sten appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He was only wearing his default clothes, but he hefted a greatsword just as large as the Vanguard's. He parried a strike from the Vanguard and countered with a mighty smash, buckling the Darkspawn's stomach-plate in. Alistair charged into the fray, ramming into the Darkspawn with all his body weight behind the shield bash. The Warden appeared, and within seconds a longsword was protruding from the Vanguard's throat.

It was definitely a female Warden. Her dirty, sweaty blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, save for two errant bangs that hung out over her forehead. She pulled her sword out of the Vanguard's throat and sheathed it on her back, where I noticed a shorter sword hung as well. She was wearing chainmail. I noticed that her eyes were dark brown, and her face was adorned with a complex black tattoo. I realized that I recognized her.

"Elisa Cousland?" I asked, sheathing my sword. What would the Warden sound like? She must have a voice, if DA is realistic in this universe. Will she sound like Jennifer Hale? No, too obvious.

"Not anymore," she replied. "I gave up that name to become a Grey Warden. Even then the Grey Wardens aren't exactly popular these days."

Yes! She sounds like Kari Wahlgren! Now I can pretend I'm adventuring with Elika.

She spoke to Bodahn, who thanked her profusely. The group gathered on the highway, and I couldn't help but stare. They all looked so real. Morrigan had lazily strolled into view, not bothered that she'd missed the fight. I could pick out all the little details, like Alistair's stubbly goatee and the way Morrigan's fringe hung over her eyes. The Warden finished speaking with Bodahn and turned back to me. Ok, this is it. Time to make it or break it.

"Warden?" I started. "My name is Ventus. I was at Ostagar, but I came to Lothering looking for you."

Elisa looked suspicious. "How did you know I was alive?"

"I didn't," I lied quickly. "I heard that two junior Grey Wardens weren't in the battle. I hoped they were still alive."

Don't mention Alistair, you're not supposed to know him. Come to think of it, never under any circumstances mention how he's next in line for the throne-

"Well you found me," Elisa replied. "What do you intend to do now?"

Moment of truth. Here we go.

"I want to join you on your mission," I said quickly. Almost at once Morrigan and Alistair groaned.

"Interesting strategy, Warden," Morrigan commented in that odd singsong voice of hers, "Are we reduced to picking up stray puppies for our quest?"

"I agree with Morrigan… for once," Alistair added. "Shouldn't be a little, you know, selective?"

"The poor boy came all the way from Ostagar to help," Leliana said, always the nicest party member. "I think we should give him a chance."

"He looks weak, inexperienced," Sten said shortly, his voice deep and rumbling. "He is unfit for battle."

Wonderful. Votes have been cast and only one person wants me. I suppose I shouldn't have expected any different.

Elisa suddenly looked distracted. "Where is that bloody dog?" she asked. The giant Mabari hound bounded out of nowhere and trotted to Elisa. He nuzzled at her armoured leg, leaving swathes of dog-slobber along the metal. Curious, the Mabari turned to me. He trotted over and sniffed, growing interested. Could he smell my dogs on me, even after inter-dimensional travel? The Mabari sat down with a clearly-audible _thump_ and wagged his stubby little tail. I reached out fearlessly and gave the warhound a pat. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, obviously enjoying it.

"Well Barkspawn likes him, at least," Elisa chuckled, apparently having named the dog just like I did. She patted the side of her leg in a clear signal. Barkspawn immediately turned and trotted over to his master. He sat down by her side, gazing at me with his adorable puppy-face.

"Why do you want to join me?" Elisa asked. Oh great, she's running the gamut of conversation options before she recruits me.

"You're a Grey Warden," I said matter-of-factly. "If I want to help stop the Blight, you're my best bet."

"You'd be travelling with an apostate, a quinari murderer and two enemies of the crown," Elisa pointed out. "Some would call that dangerous."

"You say 'dangerous', I say 'interesting'," I replied. Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

"What could you add to my party?" Elisa went on. Oh jeez, this isn't my strong suit.

"I will admit, I'm inexperienced," I said. Yeah, that's an understatement, "But even without formal training I've managed to kill six Darkspawn by myself. That has to say something." It says that was luck, you idiot. You almost died five seconds ago.

"You could probably train me to do whatever you want me to," I went on. "Worst comes to worst, I'm an extra sword and an extra shield. That's the best I can do."

"Got a mysterious or tragic past?" Elisa asked. Wait, what?

"Huh?"

Elisa grinned, "I only recruit interesting people, like in the old tales. Was your village destroyed by Darkspawn? Are you seeking revenge for an old injustice against your family? Have you lost your memory and now search the world for clues as to your past?"

"I'm a traveller from another world forced here against my will, and now I'm trying to find a way home," I say, straight faced.

"You're in," Elisa replied, cracking a smile.

Morrigan sighed and rolled her eyes. I could practically hear the message _Morrigan Disapproves_ ping up. Alistair shrugged, happy with Elisa's choice. Leliana smiled. Sten remained stoic as ever. I'd finally joined the party. What remained to be seen was how useful a party member I'd be. It seemed I was going to be a sword and shield warrior, but I'd probably be of limited use considering how Alistair filled that role.

Bodahn provided me with some camping equipment of my own, and the party set off soon after. Once the sun began to set, I helped everyone set up camp. Morrigan decided to be her antisocial self and set up her own camp fifty metres from everybody else. I pretended to learn everyone's names from Elisa to stay in character. Elisa explained to me what I already knew, and something else. Apparently she was taking Alistair's advice and going to Redcliffe first. It was an odd choice, but I couldn't exactly dispute it. As Elisa called Barkspawn to her side and forged off into the woods with a bow to hunt down our dinner, I felt glad I hadn't made her a Stupid Evil Warden.

I still couldn't believe it. Here I was camping out with some of my favourite characters from one of my favourite games. The problem was that none of them knew me, and it was awkward introducing myself to them all. I started with Alistair first, figuring he was the most easy-going.

"Hey… Alistair," I said, stumbling over my words a little.

"Oh. Hi..."

"Ventus, but call me Ven."

"Ventus," Alistair repeated. "What brings you here?"

"I just wanted to get to know everyone else," I said.

"Oh, well you came to the right place. Stay away from Morrigan, she's a horrible bitch. Leliana seems… nice, but she seems an Archdemon short of a Blight."

"And Sten?"

"I've known him for a day, and he hasn't said a word to me," Alistair replied. "You know he was in a cage for murdering people? Elisa just let him out so he could join the club."

"A quinari would be pretty useful in a fight," I pointed out.

"I'm just worried I'll wake up and find he's left me on an island with no pants," Alistair said. "Anyway, I've still got some setting up to do."

I moved on to Leliana. She was humming some tune, and I introduced myself.

"Oh, hello Ven," she said in that French accent of hers. "It's nice to see someone so dedicated to helping us."

"Not really. This is the only place I could go, to be honest," I said. "I feel like the only way I can get back to my normal life is if I help you all do what you have to do." Which is true, in a way.

"That doesn't matter. You're a normal person called up to great responsibilities. It's just like in all the old stories," Leliana explained. I smiled. That's Leliana – supernaturally sweet. Liara's got nothing on her. I just hope Elisa doesn't harden her in her personal quest.

"Thanks for making me feel welcome, Leliana," I said. Well that was nice. On to the two party members most likely to physically harm me. I approached Morrigan's campfire with some trepidation. There was a dead rabbit lying next to her tent, and another roasting over her fire. I had the distinct impression she'd turned into a wolf and hunted them herself, which surprisingly enough did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.

"Oh? What brings a boy to my tent?" she asked in that familiar, mocking, sarcastic tone. Her gaze flicked over me, and I got the feeling she was sizing me up. Her expression led me to believe that she was dissatisfied.

"Um, I just wanted to meet the people I'm travelling with. That's all," I said. Damn it, don't stutter!

"But have you not heard?" Morrigan asked in mock surprise. "I am a dreaded witch of the Wilds. Perhaps you have heard the stories of how I change into the shape of a wolf and steal babies from their cradles?"

"That sounds like something you'd do," I replied. Her eyes bored into me. Wait, was that the right dialog option? I think it's one that raises her approval, but I don't remember. GAH!

"Perhaps," Morrigan said coolly. "Those skills have served me well, regardless."

"I've never heard of magic like that before," I said, eager to keep a hold on the conversation.

"I imagine that would be due to practitioners of such arts having to evade capture by the Circle," Morrigan replied. Wait, her dialog's different. Do the same responses work? Let's give it a try.

"That's good. Such traditions need to be preserved," I said.

"Indeed?" Morrigan seemed genuinely surprised at my response. "Was there anything else you wished to discuss?"

"That's all I wanted to ask," I said. Now Morrigan should interru-

"What do you think of my talents, then?" Morrigan asked. "Am I an abomination to be burned at the stake for my crimes?"

Ok, what's the next option? I can't remember! All I remember is one of the joke responses. Hopefully she won't disapprove -20 or something…

"Maybe tied to a flagpole and tickled," I replied. Morrigan barely reacted, simply returning to her meal. I left, letting out a sigh of relief. I'd successfully navigated that minefield. Now all I have to do is go talk to Sten and I'll be all set!

"Hi Sten."

"Hello."

"Do you have time to talk?"

"No."

"Ok."

I probably need more time before I can talk to Sten.

I went back to my tent, pulling off my armour and laying it down beside me. I curled up on my bedroll, the whole situation still incredibly surreal. But as I lay there, my thoughts drifted home again. They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone. I missed my home, my family and my friends. I was stuck farther from them than was humanly possible, and I had no idea how to get back. I just hoped with all my might that I would get out of this, and have a chance to get home.


	3. Chapter 2: King of the Hill

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; our hero's companion left him to travel alone. Our hero managed to join the Warden's party, and they now journey to Redcliffe to enlist the help of Arl Eamon. I should note that a lot of the dialog here is paraphrased, so keep that in mind if you see glaring inconsistencies in the dialog. Also, if you know of any unique party member interjections like Morrigan's or Sten's featured here then please tell me about them so I can work them in._

Chapter Two: King of the Hill

I woke up. It was still ridiculously early in the morning, the sun only the faintest sliver of silver on the eastern horizon. I wasn't going back to sleep any time soon, so I stood up and put my armour back on. The morning was absolutely freezing, and I hugged myself to keep warm. I turned around and noticed a familiar shape. The Warden was standing outside her tent without her armour, only wearing her tunic and pants. Her hair was unbound, reaching past her shoulders. She picked up her swords and unsheathed them, the blades winking in the twilight.

As I watched, she began to move. Her arms extended, she swung her swords around herself. It looked like she was fighting invisible enemies in slow motion. Her routine sped up, her swords whipping audible through the air. She ended the routine with a flourish and remained still for a few moments, panting lightly.

"Morning," I said. Elisa started and turned.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, sheathing her swords.

"I wake up early away from home," I replied. "You?"

"Bad dreams," she said shortly. I knew what she meant. Her Grey Warden nightmares were acting up. Normally Alistair talks to her about it, but I suppose my presence had already changed some things.

"What do you mean?" I asked, walking over to her.

"I saw... the Archdemon," she replied, pulling her hair back into its ponytail. "It was talking to the horde, down in the Deep Roads. For a second, I thought it was talking to me."

"Maybe it's a Grey Warden thing?" I proposed innocently.

"Maybe," Elisa said, musing. "That wouldn't be the first thing the taint's done to me. I actually feel stronger now. I got my fitness routine done in record time."

"I wonder why more people don't become Grey Wardens," I said, the lies coming easier.

"Alistair told me last night. Grey Wardens only live thirty years after the Joining, give or take."

I hadn't really thought about it before, but having it come up in a real conversation, I paused and thought about it.

"It's probably not as bad as it seems at first," I said. "Fifty years is still a long time to live, assuming you Join young."

"So fifty years in exchange for protecting Ferelden would be a good trade-off for you?" Elisa asked.

"Yeah... I suppose," I replied. Not that I'd want to. I still have a home to go back to, and Earth isn't exactly a place that requires a Grey Warden. Assuming I'd even survive the Joining. Besides, no chance of anything happening until Landsmeet, so I'd have to talk to Riordan about any of that.

"Warden..." I said, still not able to call her by her name without feeling awkward, "I said before I needed training. Could you help with that?"

"For starters we'd need wooden swords, unless you want to run the risk of us stabbing each other," Elisa remarked, making me burn with embarrassment. "I'll see what we can scrounge up at Redcliffe. Until then, you're free to join me in my morning routine. Just a warning; I get up early."

The sun had risen more, and substantial sunlight was starting to creep over the campsite. Barkspawn crawled out of his bed next to Elisa's tent and trotted over. Elisa went off into the woods with the Mabari in search of more food. An hour later Elisa came back with a dead deer across her shoulders and we ate in relative silence. We pulled up camp and set off down the road towards Redcliffe.

"So, do you do this often?" Alistair asked me suddenly. I almost tripped in surprise and momentarily lost grip on my pack. It took a few seconds to process that I was experiencing the party banter system from the perspective of a party member.

"Do what?"

"Oh, you know, follow a person you've never met through miles of Darkspawn-infested forests to join them on their suicide test?" Alistair went on, deadpan.

"Only on weekends," I replied, "Normally I have to crawl fifteen miles in the snow barefoot up a hill."

"Some people would find behaviour like that off-putting," Alistair remarked.

"Speaking from experience, Alistair?" I shot back, smiling. "Something the leader should know?"

"I should think not!" Alistair said with mock-severity. "I was raised to be a paragon of virtue. Following people around was reserved solely for the priests I didn't like so I could sneak rancid cheese into their sandwiches when they weren't looking."

"Remind me never to sit next you at mealtimes," I said.

"You will never see it coming, for I am Alistair, the Cheese Master! Mwuhahahaha!" Alistair let out a melodramatic, villainous laugh. To illustrate the point he produced a piece of cheese from his pouch and ate it. I laughed, and we shared a smile. It was good to know I could at least count on him and Leliana. It also struck me that I had no idea how old Alistair was. His voice actor was 40, but he always acted like a teenager. Meeting him in person, he was only a little taller than me – but I was pretty tall. I figured it didn't matter enough to worry about.

Morrigan looked over at us, and looked mildly indignant. "Have care where your eyes linger, Alistair."

"Oh, well don't worry, it's not what you think," Alistair responded, "I was looking at your nose."

"And what is it about my nose that captivates you so?" Morrigan asked. Fair point – I'd imagine her barely-covered breasts bouncing in the breeze would be a more perky- I mean, pertinent conversation topic. They're more obvious than Miranda's for crying out loud!

"I was just thinking that it looks exactly like your mother's," Alistair shot back.

"I hate you so much," Morrigan hissed under her breath. Alistair pretended to mishear, and snickered. We all continued the monotonous trudge, and as we walked I started to wonder if I could start party banter myself, considering I was a full-fledged party-member now.

"So Morrigan," I asked, "Did you grow up in the Kocari Wilds?"

Bad move, apparently. "Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?"

"You could if you wanted to," I replied. Well, not really. I'd have to lie to you, and I somehow think you'd pick up on that.

"Then you will be pleased to know that the minutiae of your life concern me not," Morrigan shot back. Wow, I just can't win with this woman.

"But to answer your question, yes, I 'grew up' in the Wilds. They were the only home I knew. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Haven't you ever left the wilds?" I asked, shifting my course to end up closer to Morrigan.

"In time, I grew curious," Morrigan admitted. "I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness."

"But you kept going back?" I asked, this question genuine. To be honest, I've never seen the appeal of 'nature'.

"As I said, they were the only home I knew," she replied. "You wish to return to your home once our quest is done, do you not?"

"You have no idea," I sighed.

"But my visits stopped one day when I was caught stealing from a dignitary," she said.

"Daring," I said, "Sounds like you."

"I was a fool for being caught, in any case," she waved away my compliment. "A Chasind man saw me, and called for the guards to arrest me. I fluttered my eyelashes and played the damsel in distress. People saw him chanting in his foreign language at a frightened little girl, and he was taken away."

"That was quick thinking," I commented. What can I say? I didn't want the apostate hating me for however many months it was going to take to stop the Blight.

"I am not without my wiles. Flemeth taught me that much. But there are still so many nuances of human society that she could never explain," Morrigan complained. "For example, the touching! Why all the touching?"

"Touching? Like a handshake?" I asked.

"Exactly. Why must people touch one another simply as a greeting? Is it wrong to expect respect for my personal space?" Morrigan went on, "And yet here I find myself, cast out by my mother in such a society."

"Well... I'm glad it worked out this way," I replied. Morrigan seemed momentarily confused, but said no more. I lapsed into silence again, and the party continued on. That night we made camp again, and Alistair taught me some exercises to strengthen my sword arm and how to use my shield more effectively. I was definitely going to need it once we got to Redcliffe.

Sure enough, we reached it a week later. It was about midday when we reached the bluff overlooking the village, and the party gathered to enjoy the view for a moment. We noticed the villagers down below were wearing armour, and they were hard at work. The villagers that weren't training were busy shoring up the barricades around the Chantry. Elisa noticed one of the villagers jogging towards them, and she moved to meet him. He quickly explained the situation – undead were attacking the village and they were vastly outnumbered. Elisa ordered him to take her to Bann Teagan, and we followed him down the steep hill into the cove Redcliffe village occupied. The Chantry doors were heaved open and we entered, greeted with a crowd of women and children all huddled together in fear. I was reminded of the Lothering refugee camp. I looked away.

We approached the man I knew to be Teagan. He looked absolutely exhausted, with bags under his eyes and dishevelled hair. There were a few rips in his clothes where bandages showed through, evidence of the night's fighting. To be honest, he looked good for someone who'd spent the last few nights fighting undead without a moment's rest.

"It's... Tomas, yes?" he asked. "And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travellers."

"No my lord, they just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them," the man replied.

"Well done, Tomas," Teagan said, and turned to us. "Greetings, friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl."

"I remember you, Bann Teagan," Alistair interjected, "Though the last time we met I was a lot younger and... covered in mud."

"Covered in mud?" The penny dropped for Teagan. "Alistair? It is you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news!"

"Still alive, yes, though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it," Alistair added bitterly. I'd almost forgotten about the Grey Wardens being outlawed. Probably because it doesn't end up hindering you much.

"Indeed," Teagan agreed, "Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things."

"No, not all of us are dead," Elisa said.

"So... you are a Grey Warden as well? A pleasure to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances," Teagan said politely. I suddenly remembered that female Wardens could blatantly hit on him, and hoped that Elisa wouldn't – especially if she's going to romance Alistair like she did when I played through. Though since Alistair didn't tell us he's heir to the throne, she must not have raised his approval much.

"You are here to see my brother?" Teagan asked. "Unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill. No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil..."

Teagan paused as he tried to think of a word to describe them. "Things... surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault."

"I can help you drive them back," Elisa said, her voice heavy with determination.

"There are no darkspawn here, and nothing to gain. It is a fool's errand," Sten rumbled. Boy howdy, you are going to be _pissed_ when we go to Haven.

"If there's a chance we can rescue the arl, we have to try," Elisa responded. Nice to see her throwing her Coercion around – and again I'm glad I made a good Warden.

"How pointless, to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. One would think we had enough to content with elsewhere," Morrigan remarked, seemingly bored. I'd almost forgotten how much of a troll she could be.

"Thank you! Thank you, this... means more to me than you can guess," Teagan said gratefully. "Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired – then return to your post."

Teagan explained how we could help the village's defence. Already my mind was racing. Sure, in the game you were limited to doing a few things – but in real life, we could seriously change things... except if I get it wrong a village full of innocent people will die. Gee whiz, I feel confident about this! That is, of course, assuming that the universe doesn't decide that it wants me dead and spawn several hundred more undead than the game had. That would just be fan-tucking-fastic. As we turned to leave Elisa struck up a conversation with a crying woman in the corner, whom I recognised as a sidequest giver. She tearfully explained how her mother was dead and her little brother was missing.

"If he has foolishly run off then he is no doubt dead. You should get used to that fact," Morrigan commented, stopping just short of pulling a trollface.

"Nice," Alistair shot back. "Maybe you want to kick her in the head while you're at it?"

"Shall we comfort her with lies? If she is to face death, better she face it honestly," Morrigan countered coolly. She would have a point if it weren't for the fact the boy is currently rooting around in his house for a sword about as big as him. With pretty good stats, actually...

We left the Chantry, and Elisa glanced at the sky. The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon. We didn't have much time to dilly-dally. Elisa chatted briefly with Murdock and gave the whole village a quick once-over.

"Alright team – opinions," Elisa asked.

"We are all going to die," Morrigan said casually.

"Fantastic," Elisa said flatly. "Alistair – anything as morale-boosting?"

"Not really," Alistair admitted. "It's not like I can do much – the undead aren't known for their spellcasting."

"I think we should do what we can to bolster morale," Leliana added. "And see if there are any more people who could fight."

"I will oversee the building of fortifications," Sten said shortly.

"Alright then," Elisa said. "Sten, you go do that. Alistair, go help Ser Perth and his knights. Leliana, check the tavern and see who's there. Ventus, you'll come with me. Morrigan..."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

"You do whatever."

We split up. Elisa and I went to Kaitlyn's home looking for her brother. We walked in, and we both heard movement inside the cabinet across from the front door. Elisa just walked up and knocked on the door.

"Go away! This isn't your home!" the boy inside tried to act tough.

"If you don't open up I'll break down the door," Elisa sighed.

"All right, I'll come out!" The boy stumbled out of the cabinet. "Please don't hurt me! I'll go back to the chantry if you want! I didn't mean any harm!"

"Your sister is looking for you, you know," Elisa mentioned.

"I just... didn't want to be at the chantry anymore. Everyone's scared, and I want to be brave."

"How is hiding in a dresser being brave?" Elisa asked, slightly amused. The boy explained that he was here to get his grandfather's sword and use it to fight the undead. When he admitted it was too heavy for him, I knew how he felt. Elisa persuaded him to let her have the sword, and we left the house with a magical sword in tow. I noticed Dwyn's house, and remembered he was available for recruitment too. I definitely wanted a veteran dwarf on our side during the fight, and his two thugs wouldn't hurt either. It'll also make it easier when we come back during Sten's personal quest.

"Hey, I heard that house belongs to a dwarf named Dwyn," I pointed out to Elisa, "We could use his help during the fight." We walked over, and she knocked on the door. No answer. She called, but there was still no answer. I shrugged. Elisa sighed heavily.

"Stand back," she said. She took a few steps back.

"Could you let me try it? I've always wanted to," I said. Elisa shrugged. I squared up with the door, and drew my foot back.

"THIS. IS. SPARTA!" _Thunk_. "OW, CRAP!"

I stumbled back, clutching my leg. Elisa raised an eyebrow. She kicked the door, and it blasted out of the door jamb like it had been shot out of a cannon. I limped inside after Elisa, mumbling something about how I'd weakened the door for her. We found Dwyn and his two thugs, and oddly enough he didn't take kindly to someone busting his door down. Elisa glossed over this minor fact and set straight to convincing Dwyn to help defend the village. He was understandably disinclined to help a stranger who'd kicked in his door, but Elisa promised that she'd put a good word in for him if he helped.

Outside, I pretended to notice the abandoned grocery store too. Elisa was confused as to why I found this relevant, but brightened when I pointed out the big freaking barrels of flammable oil lying around inside. We returned to the town square with this information, starting to feel better about the coming battle. As we arrived, we spotted Leliana coming down the hill, leading a splintmail-clad elf by the ear.

"I found a spy in the tavern," she explained. "He says he was hired by one of Arl Howe's men."

Elisa's expression hardened. She walked slowly towards the elf, her face near-unreadable. She grabbed the elf and hauled him closer, drawing her short sword and holding it against his neck.

"You work for Howe?" she asked dangerously.

"No! One of his men hired me! I was just supposed to report changes, and I haven't even managed that!" the elf pleaded. Elisa held his gaze for a long time.

"What's your name?"

"Berwick," he replied.

"Well... Berwick..." Elisa said, "You're staying in the village. You're going to help us fight tonight. I'll let the undead decide to let you live or not."

"Oh thank you, thank you my lady!" Berwick gushed. Leliana let him go and he raced off. Elisa massaged the bridge of her nose and sighed. It was pretty weird, actually. It was like she'd turned into a different person. She sheathed her sword.

"What was that about Howe?" I asked, only partially staying in character. The Warden had only been capable of outbursts like that during Landsmeet when I played. I was starting to doubt my certainty that Elisa would follow the script I had laid out for her. Fear trickled into my thoughts. What if _she_ changed things? I wouldn't be able to predict the outcomes. I'd lose the one advantage I had.

"Later," Elisa said shortly. "Once we've survived this."

Leliana mentioned that she'd convinced Lloyd the barkeep to not only offer the militia free drinks, but also take part in the battle. Elisa didn't ask how she did it, but I had a feeling it had involved the skills she'd been taught in her sordid past.

Alistair came back down the hill. "The knights want holy protection. I'm just popping over to the Chantry to ask the Maker if he'd pretty please help us just this one time because we've been so good this year."

"The Revered Mother probably has some holy symbols – say she blessed them or something," Elisa replied.

"But we can't just manipulate these men with their faith!" Leliana objected.

"It doesn't matter in the end – it's all for morale's sake," Elisa explained. "Ventus, any last-minute ideas?"

I was frozen on the spot for what seemed like an inordinately long time. I didn't do well in the spotlight at the best of times, and talking in front of the entire party was a challenge. I finally forced my mouth to start working again.

"I know we're expecting the undead to come from the castle, but doesn't it seem like we're leaving ourselves open? They could come from the lake. I think we should build some sort of barrier at the shore. It doesn't have to be much, just enough to slow them down."

Elisa was nodding, the cogs in her head visibly turning.

"Also, I noticed a slat bridge overlooking the square," I went on. "If we got the village archers up there, they'd have perfect line-of-sight with any undead at the fortifications while staying out of reach. Plus it's narrow enough that a few warriors could protect the archers if need be."

"Not enough men," Elisa replied. "With all the archers on the bridge, with or without guards that leaves only a handful of men to guard the doors. Teagan wouldn't be able to defend the chantry himself if they broke through, and we wouldn't be able to get there in time."

Elisa sighed. "At this point, our best hope is to bunch up and fight hard. Not the best tactical situation, but it's the best we can do given the circumstances."

We stopped back at the chantry to talk to Kaitlyn and the Revered Mother. The Revered mother gave up the holy symbols easily enough once Elisa repeated her point about morale. Kaitlyn was grateful to have her brother back, and Elisa offered to pay for the sword. She flicked a fat gold sovereign to Kaitlyn, who accepted it gratefully.

"An honourable act," Sten commented. Elisa was obviously headed for his good side. Morrigan... not so much. We trudged back up the hill for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Alistair piped up again.

"Were you really in that cage for twenty days?" he asked Sten.

"It might have been closer to thirty. I stopped counting after a while," the quinari replied.

"What did you do? I mean... twenty days is a long time to sit in one place and do nothing," Alistair pressed.

"On good days, I posed riddles to the passerby, offering them treasures in exchange for correct answers," Sten responded in the exact same serious tone he always used.

"Really?"

"No."

"Awww, too bad. That's got serious potential."

Ser Perth got his 'holy' protection, and we went down to the blacksmith Owen's house. Elisa sweet-talked him into letting us inside, and we filed in after her. The smell that hit me was so horrible I almost passed out on the doorstep.

"Somebody's been drinkiiiing," Alistair commented.

Owen explained about his daughter Valena, and how she was still trapped in the castle. Elisa promised to find her.

"Oh, lovely," Morrigan commented, her usual insensitive self. "Shall we next begin rescuing kittens from trees?"

"Is this a promise we will not keep?" Sten asked, sounding irritated.

"Let's hope not," Morrigan replied.

"What's this?" Owen asked, not hearing them.

"I said nothing to you, human," Sten said shortly. I'd forgotten that Sten could be an ass as well. Owen finally agreed to start repairs again, and we walked out of the blacksmith feeling satisfied.

We had done pretty much all we could to prepare the village. Repairs would be pretty much done by sundown, we had well-armed knights who believed themselves to be divinely protected, three veteran fighters, an elf archer and oodles of flammable oil. It was going to be close. I helped everyone who could be spared construct the secondary barrier along the shore of Lake Calenhad, and by sunset it was all done. The militia clustered behind their barrier outside the chantry, many drunk off their faces but all feeling reasonably confident. Elisa led the party up the hill _again_ to stand by Ser Perth and his knights, as well as Dwyn's trio and Berwick. The majority of the oil had been poured around stacks of flammable wood at the mouth of the village entrance, ready to be lit by a flaming arrow from Berwick. The rest of the barrels were stored in the grocery, but anyone who went there would find the rest of the barrels empty.

"Scared?" Elisa asked. I tried to summon up a witty line, but just nodded instead.

"Stick close to us. We'll get you out of this, don't worry."

I wasn't so sure. I had thought I could handle it, back then with the sun still high in the sky with everyone around. Now the sun slipped lower and lower, every centimetre bringing us closer to the fight. My sword seemed to be getting heavier every second, and sweat collected uncomfortably under my armour. I was wearing a new helmet, and it killed my peripheral vision. I could barely see Alistair on my right or Elisa on my left. To my embarrassment, I started shivering – but it wasn't cold. I was facing, at the very best, six solid hours of fighting against overwhelming numbers. I wasn't trained. I'd only survived my last two fights from sheer luck.

To be honest, I wanted to run. If the party hadn't been there, I would have run off without a look back and never thought about Redcliffe village. Elisa's presence was like a restraining hand on my shoulder, keeping me rooted to the spot. My breathing was getting shallow and fast. I tried to hide it, tried to slow it down and breathe deeper. It wasn't working. I was practically hyperventilating. Whether it was noticeable or not, nobody mentioned it.

Alistair donned his helmet, giving his sword a few practice swings. Sten was wearing scaled-up chainmail, his massive greatsword seeming small in his hands. Leliana remained in her Chantry robes, preferring to stay light on her feet and away from hand-to-hand combat. Morrigan readied her staff, magical energy flaring at the gnarled tip.

I stood there, wearing resized scale armour Owen had made for me, clutching my sword, hefting my shield, and wondering if Elisa would get us out of this alive.


	4. Chapter 3: Tower Defence

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Anyone here from Mass Vexations 2; it wasn't my idea. If you aren't here from Vexations, go read it now. Mass Vexations 1 and 2 are for anyone who likes Mass Effect just as much as DA._

_Last time on Life on Thedas; the Warden's party reached Redcliffe only to find it besieged by undead. The Warden's party aids in preparations for its defence, and now waits in darkness for the undead to arrive._

Chapter Three: Tower Defence

The night was incredibly still. There were no crickets. No sound from the village below, no small animals. The only noise was the soft _clink_s of our armour as we shifted uneasily. I tried to calm myself. You've done this a million times before, right? A big green cloud pops up right before they attack, then after a few waves they attack from the lake. Sure you usually come here after the Circle so you have some levels and equipment, but how hard can it be? I shifted from foot to foot, the silence maddening. My thoughts were buzzing like a crowd of insects. Something had to happen, something had to break this impenetrable blanket of quiet -

"How long do we have to wait?" I blurted out, shattering the silence and masterfully making myself the centre of attention. I wanted to disappear through a crack in the ground under their withering stares. At that point, I would have taken the zombie invasion just to kill the moment. Oh wait, should I be calling them zombies? They're undead, but not the kind that shamble and bite you. These stove your head in with a mace. But calling them undead is a little generic, so – stop talking to yourself!

I heard noise from below. It sounded like the townspeople had spotted the invaders. I craned my neck, and spotted the cloud of poisonous-looking green gas crossing the bridge. The people below were obviously busy arming themselves, but I had the wonderful opportunity to sit around and wait for the zombies to come. Or undead.

The first of the undead came. They were vague silhouettes, distinguishable by the odd jerkiness of their movements. It was too dark to pick out the details, and for that I was mildly grateful. We waited until they had advanced a little closer.

"Light the traps!" Ser Perth ordered, "Burn these foul creatures!"

At least in reality the melee party members won't charge through the fire like idiots. Berwick threw a torch into the flame trap. It was a curved line of oil-soaked kindling and other spare bits of wood, clustered on oil-soaked grass around more barrels of oil. It went up in an impressive fireball, the heat wave drying my nervous sweat. A couple of flaming undead stumbled around before toppling over. I was starting to feel more confident about the defence when more of the undead poured through. Engine limitations had reduced the invading zombie 'horde' in the game to a handful every minute or so. This was a full battalion, each carrying a rusty-looking sword, axe or mace. They shambled through the fire, even the wall of flame incapable of halting them.

"Steady!" Elisa ordered. Her voice was like a rod of iron. It compelled me to act when my mind rebelled. It gave me the strength to stand and face the first walking corpse to reach me. I was suddenly aware of all the details the game had spared me. 'Rotten' was an understatement. The flesh of this creature's face was grey and bloated, distended like a funhouse mirror. It seemed to be oozing off the skull in slippery sheets, and even over the smell of roasting corpse I could smell the sickly sweetness of death.

Its mace came down. I deflected with my shield, returning with a forehand chop to the midsection. My sword easily hacked through the desiccated flesh but was stopped short by its ribs. The undead showed no reaction, drawing back its mace for another strike. I pulled my leg back and kicked out into its midsection, knocking it off my sword. I followed up with a massive strike, like I was pitching a ball. This blow was strong enough to cut clean through, and my first undead opponent was dispatched. Now I just had another 53,595 to go. I noticed Sten bisect one with a single massive swing. Alistair broke the neck of another with a vicious chop to the throat with the edge of his shield. Leliana and Berwick were peppering the oncoming group with arrows, managing to drop quite a few before they reached us.

Elisa, meanwhile, was chopping away with both swords without a care in the world. She moved effortlessly in her chainmail, her off-hand sword striking hearts and parrying swings while her main sword cut off heads and limbs. Morrigan was having some fun, too. Lightning arced periodically across the group, and I thought I saw a fireball.

I managed to kill another corpse with a lucky decapitation, and turned to face a rather monstrous one I didn't recognise from the games. It was at least a head taller than me, wearing the remains of black armour and wielding a sword. I hastily parried a swing with my shield, and my counter swing was parried too. I stumbled back from a second strike and lashed out wildly. My sword found a gap in the armour on the zombie's left arm. Or was that undead? In any case, the limb in question dropped off like dead weight. There was the briefest of pauses as we both stared at the stump.

The undead came at me again, swinging. I punched its remaining arm with my shield, and moved out of the way. I swung again, and the corpse's right arm came off too. There was another pause, longer than the last. It charged at me again, madly gnashing its rotten teeth. I ducked aside and slashed out. The creature's right leg detached like a wet tissue, leaving the corpse a triple amputee. It seemed to consider the injuries.

"You've only got one leg left," I said. Another pause. "I'll take that too."

The corpse started to hop towards me, painfully slow. I sighed and rolled my eyes, giving it a final slash. Its last leg popped off and the torso dropped to the earth. The head was still alive, making unholy noises at me.

"Alright, we'll call it a draw," I said in a British accent, and giggled hysterically. Great, the universe makes me want to soil myself and consoles me with the Black Knight. I pulled my gaze away from the torso and noticed the rest of the party had cleaned up without my help. I tried to feel happy about my grand total of three zombie kills. I definitely wouldn't have made it if that car had knocked me into Dead Rising or Resident Evil. But at least in Dead Rising I wouldn't have to contend with anyone in MY STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!

"The monsters are attacking from the lake!" We turned to look as Tomas arrived at the top of the hill. "They're attacking the barricades! We need help!"

"Stay here and guard the path!" Elisa ordered. The knights, Dwyn and his thugs nodded. We set off down the hill after Tomas. An annoyance in the day, it felt outright murderous at night. I tripped on an innumerable amount of things invisible in the dark, almost rolling down the hill most times. It didn't help that the moon was barely visible from behind a cloud of thick fog. With nothing for light but as many torches as we had been able to make that day, it was downright awful conditions for a fight.

As we neared the chantry we could pick out the details of the battle. Corpses were coming in from the lake shores in a steady stream, slower than up the path by still a danger. The men at the barricades were struggling bravely, sending waves of shafts into the silhouettes while hacking at any corpse that got too close.

"Ventus, Leliana, help the left flank!" Elisa barked. "Morrigan, Alistair, right flank! Sten, with me!"

She dived right into the fray, her swords cutting with roughly the same efficiency of an industrial lawnmower. Sten was more the equivalent of a walking brick outhouse holding a sledgehammer. The pair visibly divided the horde as they took the path of least resistance. A descending chop from me cleaved a helmet in two and got my sword stuck in a corpse's skull. As I struggled to pull it free Leliana dropped three with arrows to the forehead.

"Move up!" Elisa shouted. "Funnel them, stop them from surrounding us!"

I heard lightning crackle and smelled burn flesh. Morrigan was acting on the order. Leliana moved steadily forward, sending a storm of arrows into the crowd. I stayed as close to her as I dared, my shield covering more of her than it was of me. She dropped corpses like a turret, but unfortunately she didn't have infinite ammo like in the game. Leliana fired her last arrow and slung her bow into a holster on her back. She whipped out two short swords, her stance making it clear she knew how to use them.

A zombie came to meet us, mace swinging. I blocked it with my shield, a wave of pain shooting up my arm. Leliana ducked under my shield and stabbed up into the zombie's chest, quickly pulling it back out and cutting its throat with her other sword. It tumbled back, and Leliana let out a sharp exhale of approval. Another zombie shambled over, raising an axe. Leliana dropped her off-hand sword and scooped up a handful of dust, flinging it into the creature's eyes. Blinded, it couldn't react as Leliana circled it in a heartbeat and impaled it. I darted forward to shield Leliana, just in time to catch another blow.

This continued for a time. I started to get into a sort of rhythm. I let Leliana do all the killing and busied myself protecting her. She grew more daring in her attacks, growing to trust my shield work. At last, she decapitated the final zombie. We stood there, panting, taking advantage of the pause in combat.

"Steady, men," Elisa called over the square, squinting into the gloom. "We have a lot of moonlight left to burn."

A few people took the chance to bandage themselves. A man was dragged into the chantry, his leg badly mangled by a mace strike. A small boy raced out of the chantry, carrying several spare quivers of arrows. Leliana got priority given her performance with her bow, and I noticed Elisa string a longbow for herself. Apparently the Cousland of this reality had more weapons experience than her game counterpart.

"We almost let some through on the left flank," Elisa said, scanning the battlefield. "Ventus, you weren't aggressive enough."

I made a vague apologetic gesture.

"Leliana, move back to the chantry doors and pick off any you see getting through. Make your arrows count," Elisa went on. "Alistair, you come with Sten and I. We'll cover the left and the centre. Morrigan, take Ventus and stay mobile."

Morrigan simply nodded. We quickly moved to our new stations. The odd pause in the fighting gave us some time to catch our breath. Morrigan seemed particularly tired – I guess spellcasting is pretty exhausting. I squinted into the gloom. At least we still had light.

The universe promptly displayed that, yes, it hated me and wanted me to die in a fire. A strong wind picked up, blowing my hair into my eyes. The torches that encircled the barricade fluttered in the gale and went out, all at once. The moon moved behind some thick, dark clouds. The village was plunged into near-total blackness. My heart beat so fast I thought I would burst. I thought I could hear things moving in the dark. I backed away, and bumped into what I thought was Morrigan. We stood back-to-back, and she lit a fireball in her hand.

"GET THOSE TORCHES RELIT!" Elisa bellowed, cutting through the men's terror. One scrambled into the chantry to grab a candle from inside. A new wave of zombies was coming, and the men were wavering. Elisa, Sten and Alistair stood steady at the head of the group, unaffected.

" 'Tis no ordinary wind," Morrigan said. "I doubt the torches will be relit in time."

I remembered my plan. I slung my shield onto my back and ripped the closest torch out of its bracket. I held it to Morrigan.

"Light it."

"What?"

"Just light it!" I insisted. "Keep it lit, I don't care how!"

I'm sure Morrigan would have objected to being ordered around any other time, but the desperation in my voice won her over. Magical flames erupted from the torch, flickering unnaturally.

"If you expect me to be able to keep all the torches lit at once against this wind, you shall be disappointed," Morrigan remarked. I didn't reply. I just turned and ran. Morrigan called out to me, but I ignored her. I knew I wasn't going to get a spurt of courage like this again anytime soon. I charged into the darkness, Morrigan's magical flames seeming woefully insignificant against the cloying black night. I prayed that Morrigan wouldn't let the fire out.

A zombie loomed out of the darkness ahead of me. I smashed my sword into its face, the desperate strength behind the blow folding its helmet into its skull. I ran on, towards the lake. The lakeside barricades finally appeared in the flickering torchlight. Unfortunately, so did the crowd of zombies crawling from the lake. I raced towards the barricade, torch outstretched.

A mace swung up out of nowhere. It connected with my arm, and unimaginable pain shot through me. I screamed in agony, and the torch sailed out of my grip. It arced over the barricade and landed on the shoreline. I staggered back, my left arm on fire with pain. The bracer on my left arm had bent inwards from the strike, and it felt like the bone was broken. I cradled my arm and looked up and the oncoming zombie.

I rushed at it. The zombie had no time to react before I rammed my head into its face. My entire body weight, reinforced by my helmet, met its decaying face. It almost exploded, toppling backwards to the ground. I groaned in pain, my arm refusing to move. I looked up. Morrigan's torch was still alight. I had to reach it. I crawled over the barricade, my arm eliciting fresh howls of agony. I landed hard on the ground and almost didn't want to get up. The endless shuffling of the undead spurred me on, and I could still hear fighting from the village square.

Come on. Come on. It's just a few metres. You can do this. RUN!

I came up from my prone position like a sprinter. I dived across the shore and landed almost on top of the torch, skidding as I did. I rolled over and jammed it into the barricade.

The results were even better than expected. Soaked in the entire surplus of oil, the barricade went up like a napalm bomb. The fireball was so impressive the heatwave almost rolled me over, making my eyes burn. The heat was oppressive, and it spread quickly to cover the entire shoreline. At this point, I realized the flaw in my revised plan – I had no way back to the village square past the firewall.

Heh. I fell into a burning ring of fire. No, focus you asshat! I tried to get up, but something clamped onto my leg. I turned and yelled in horror. The zombies were crawling from the lake and grabbing at me. In revenge for cutting off their access, they were going to pull me into the lake.

They were going to drown me.

I pulled out my sword, but the angle was just too awkward to swing it with any strength. The feeble cuts I made barely fazed the corpses at all. I felt myself sliding towards the water, and dropped my sword to scrabble at the dirt. They were too strong, and I was dragged kicking and screaming into the water.

My armour weighed me down. I managed a few hasty breaths before I was pulled under. I was infuriatingly close to the surface, still on the shore, an arm's reach away from air. They held me, stared at me with their rotten eyes. I flailed and kicked, but it was useless. My lungs burned. My vision darkened.

I was going to die.

* * *

_Beep. Sssssh. Beep. Ssssssh. Beep. Ssssssh._

"_Any change?"_

"_Still no signs of brain activity."_

"_Everything else?"_

"_Just fine. The broken bones are healing well. Still no word on the guy that hit him. It was an isolated road. No witnesses."_

"_Doesn't matter at this point. No reason to sugar-coated it – he's brain-dead. The mother's flying in to make the call."_

"_Isn't there any chance he'll wake up? People have gone a while in comas before."_

"_They showed some sort of brain activity. This guy's a mental flatline. The lights are on, but there's nobody home."_

Oh god, they think I'm braindead! I'm not! I'm alive! HEY! HEY! LET ME OUT! I WANT TO GO HOME! LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT

"_Oh shit, did you see that?"_

"_Brain activity's spiking like crazy! Guy must be having a serious nightmare – quick, get the nurse in here."_

I'M ALIVE!

_An upwards motion, pulling me away. I'm rising through layers of something. I desperately cling to the scene, the vague senses I have slipping away. Words turn to dull roars, then nothing. I float in blackness. I feel wet. A hand grabs me and pulls me up._

I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE

* * *

"I'M ALIVE!" I yelled.

"I can see that!" someone answered. I sat bolt upright, and winced as pain shot through my arm. I was back on the shores at Redcliffe. I was alive. Was that a... dream? It felt like a nightmare. I could move, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't...

"Are you all right?" the voice asked. I turned to look. It was a warrior in a familiar helmet. He raised it.

"I told you to leave the fighting to me," Malcolm said with a worried look.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I exclaimed.

"I could ask you the same thing!" the Chasind Warden replied. "But no time for that! We have to get out!"

"How'd you even get to me?" I asked. There was a whinny nearby. I turned. A massive chestnut horse stood snorting nearby, stamping and kicking at the undead trying to crawl out of the lake. A few managed to get upright, and came at us brandishing weapons. Malcolm produced a paired axe and mace, and dispatched them quickly.

"Quick, up on the horse!" Malcolm ordered. I took one look at the massive animal.

"I think my arm's broken!"

Malcolm raced over to me. He climbed onto the horse with surprising agility and offered his hand. I took it, and he hauled me up onto the animal. It was hard work getting upright, but I managed it in the end. Malcolm handed me my sword, which I took gratefully.

"Now what?"

"We get out the same way I got in," Malcolm replied, eyeing the inferno.

"Oh crap."

Malcolm spurred the horse on. It galloped toward the fire unflinchingly, fearless. Malcolm adjusted the animal's course with the faintest pressure on the reins.

"Ya! Ya, Epona!" Malcolm yelled.

Epona.

You have got to be effing kidding me.

The horse jumped. There was a brief moment of weightlessness, the searing heat of the fire, then a bone-jangling collision with the ground. Epona seemed none the worse for wear, cantering off unscathed.

"You all right?" Malcolm called back.

"Medium-rare, but all right!" I replied. I looked up, and realized my mistake. Very big fire + very strong wind + lots of wooden buildings around = bad.

Redcliffe village was ablaze.

The houses burned with an intensity usually associated with volcanoes. The heat was like a physical force, roasting me alive in my armour. The light was so strong it was like daylight, and burning zombies flailed around dying in droves. We reached the square again, where we saw the defenders fending off the last desperate assault.

"FOR REDCLIFFE!" Elisa roared.

"FOR THE GREY WARDENS!" Malcolm answered, galloping his horse into the fray. Epona collided with the zombies with bone-shattering force. What corpses that weren't flung aside were crushed under her iron-shod hooves, or kicked or bitten. I hacked down with my sword, easily dispatching the zombies from my higher position.

Elisa's warcry was taken up by the militia. They surged out of the barricade, taking the fight to the undead. Elisa led the fray, and all the men around her seemed to fight like they were possessed. It an odd moment of clarity I realized the Warden of this reality was specced as a Champion. Huh, the more things that change.

The zombies were driven off, the last falling twitching to the ground. Elisa rammed her main sword into it, stopping the twitching. She looked up at the blaze.

"Who did that?" she asked.

I sheepishly raised my good arm. The party stared at me with dumbfounded surprise.

"Interesting tactic," was all Sten said.

Elisa looked back at the raging inferno. "It's too late to fight it now. Put out any spot fires and stop it from spreading, but anything else is useless."

She turned and walked to the chantry's great doors.

"Let it burn."


	5. Chapter 4: Consequences

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; the Warden's party mounted their defence of Redcliffe. The horde of undead would have overwhelmed out heroes had Ventus not lit a secondary line of defence at the lake shore. This had the side effect of burning most of Redcliffe village to the ground. Ventus was saved from the blaze by Malcolm, who mysteriously appeared at his side as the undead attempted to drown him. _

_As Ventus prepares to deal with the consequences of his actions, and his broken arm, he wonders why, when he was dying, he dreamed he was about to wake up._

Chapter Four: Consequences

The blaze continued well into the morning. Some tried to fight it, but it cut off access to the lake. The most they could do was sit and watch as their homes and belongings burned to the ground, huddled in and around the chantry. A healer splinted my broken left arm, but apart from that I was left alone. I ate nothing and spoke to no one. I sat on the steps and watched my handiwork unfold.

You fucking moron. I'm sure the people will be _so _glad you liberated their ash pile. The Warden's never going to let you near the matches again.

The undead didn't come back. One of the things that surprised me was that the attack had stopped before sunrise. I wanted to believe it was because of what I did, but it seemed too much like wishful thinking. I spotted a few villagers pointed at me and whispering. I looked away, burning with shame. I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and walked over to where the rest of the party gathered. Elisa was busy taking a long, grateful drink of water from a skin she'd been handed by a militiaman. Malcolm was deep in conversation with Alistair, obviously familiar with him. Leliana was busy helping the villagers with whatever she could. Sten and Morrigan stood away from everything else, uncaring.

I overheard Malcolm explain why he was there. Apparently he'd heard Eamon was sick, and come to help as well. We'd had a huge head start on him, but he found Epona in the wilderness and closed the gap on her. He had finally caught up during the attack, spurred on by the green fog.

"Ventus, why didn't you tell us Malcolm was alive?" Alistair demanded as I approached.

"Would you accept 'I forgot'?" I sighed, rubbing a grimy hand across my face.

"Please, Alistair," Malcolm held up a hand when it looked like Alistair was going to continue, "He's the reason I'm alive. That deserves better treatment, surely."

"I just don't know what I should be feeling right now," Alistair admitted. "You're alive, but he burned down the village we were trying to save."

"Speaking of which, here comes the mayor," Elisa interjected, her tone resigned. Murdock stormed towards us, tearing off his helmet.

"You, boy!" Murdock shouted at me, "What the blazes did you think you were doing?"

"One blaze. Singular. Pay attention next time," Elisa replied coolly.

"This is no time for jokes, Warden!" Murdock yelled, gesturing wildly at me. "My boys bleed in defence of their homes and one of yours burns them down! I demand punishment!"

"Listen to me," Elisa said. Her voice had not changed volume, but there was a dark undercurrent that drained all the rage from Murdock. "_You _are the mayor of this village. Ventus is under _my_command. If you have a problem with _my_ men, I suggest you take it up with _me_."

I looked at the ground, ashamed. There was a long silence.

"Very well, Warden," Murdock said. "I will... speak with you later, then."

"Please do," Elisa replied cordially as the mayor turned away. There was another long silence, broken only by Elisa's exhausted sigh.

"I'm not off the hook, am I?" I said.

"Not in the slightest."

"Figures."

Bann Teagan called the village populace together in front of the chantry for his post-battle speech. Elisa and the rest of us were arrayed on the raised step in front of the chantry beside Teagan, on display to the villagers. Word must have got around about my exploits judging by the amount of angry glaring directed at me. I shrank behind Sten.

"We have lasted the night, and we are victorious!" Teagan announced. "We may have lost our homes, but we live on!"

He said a prayer for the fallen, and there was a moment of silence. The villagers moved off, probably to start rebuilding the homes I burned down. Teagan congratulated Elisa, and told her to meet him by the mill. He left, and Elisa rounded on me.

"Explain. Now."

"When we built the secondary defences, I used the oil from the storehouse on them," I stuttered. "When the torches went out, I got Morrigan to give me some fire and lit them. I was just trying to help..."

Elisa sighed and gripped the bridge of her nose. "Look. I know you didn't plan for this, and I know it happened because of that damn wind. You just have to understand the position you've put me in."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I won't let you down again."

"I hope not," was all Elisa had to say. As the party moved off, I started mentally kicking myself. Fan-tucking-fastic. Halfway through the first plot quest of the game and I burn down a village. I'm amazed she hasn't thrown me out of the party. I bet I'll manage to blow up the entire Mages Tower once we go there.

We trudged up the hill for the umpteenth time, Malcolm tagging along as what I assumed was a guest-star party member. I braced myself for more banter, probably directed at me.

"So... Ven," Leliana piped up. I realized she was the only one to use my nickname.

"Gee, I wonder what you're about to ask me," I replied.

"I know, I just want to know... Did you mean it?" Leliana pressed on.

"You'll have to be a little more specific," I said.

"I mean... Did you burn down the village just to kill the undead?" Leliana replied. "It just seems a little... ruthless."

"No," I said, monotone. "I burned down an entire village, single-handedly wiping out the homes, belongings and livelihoods of the entire population completely by accident. Does that make you feel better?"

"Actually... it does," she said.

"Then your mind works in mysterious ways," was all I could say. Well, at least it was Leliana who started the ball rolling. Could have been worse. Could have been Morrigan.

We reached the top of the hill. Teagan was waiting, staring at the castle. He explained about the secret passage, and his plan to sneak us inside. Lady Isolde came running right on cue, briefly speaking to Alistair before explaining some of what was happening inside the castle. She briefly touched on her son Connor's odd behaviour before heaping blame on the apostate mage teaching him, whom I knew to be Jowan. Teagan agreed to go with Isolde despite Elisa's loud arguments. She gave in eventually.

Teagan told us we could lower the gates to let Ser Perth and his knights in. Malcolm stayed with them, reasoning that he could do more use on Epona with room to manoeuvre. Epona. I still can't get over that. And I thought _Vexations _had random references. Oh wait, don't forget the Black Knight from last night. _That _was fun.

"Down we go," Elisa commented, opening the hatch in the mill. We filed in, and I went last, closing the hatch behind us. The passageway was long and dark, but a light flared in Morrigan's staff. Again I bemoaned the lack of loading screens to save us this long trek – which was probably going to go under the lake – and regretted not catching any sleep before leaving. My eyes felt dry and my limbs felt heavy, not to mention the constant throbbing pain from my broken arm. Believe it or not, I'd never gone a whole night without sleep before. It was a new, horrible experience.

"Sooooo... was it fun?" Alistair asked. Oh Christ, it's his turn.

"Yes, it was," I replied with faux enthusiasm. "In fact, can we go to Denerim? I hear it can burn nicely if you start it just right."

"Please do," Alistair said darkly, "I hear Loghain's there. We don't need to make it look like an accident."

"While we're burning things, can we swing by Arl Howe's estate?" Elisa chimed in from the front.

"Oh please!" I poured on the sarcasm. "We can make a day of it! Anyone else have some things they'd like to burn?"

"I get it, I get it," Alistair held up his hands to calm me, "You don't like this any more than we do."

"Look... thanks for understanding," I said gratefully, rubbing my eyes.

"Just don't light the fire for mealtimes."

"Bastard."

We finally reached the end of the passage. A slimy ladder led to a hatch in the ceiling, and I had a difficult time climbing it one-handed. Light filtered through the edges of the hatch. Elisa heaved it open, and we came out in the castle dungeons. Morrigan extinguished her staff. Flickering torches cast crazy shadows, making it seem even more foreboding. The six of us crawled out, and I shoved the hatch back in place.

"Wait, where's Barkspawn?" I asked.

"At the camp guarding our things," Elisa replied. "But I don't see how he could have got up that ladder."

"Fair point."

We walked down the hallway, glancing at the cages that flanked us. I thought I saw bones in one. The fact that these dark, spooky dungeons had a 99% probability of being filled with zombies did nothing to help matters. I stuck a little too close to the others than was necessary.

"Hello? Is someone there?" a voice echoed out. It was Jowan, the maleficar Isolde had hired to tutor Connor. Of course, my companions had no idea about that. We found Jowan's cell, and he pressed against the bars. He looked terrible – just as bad as Teagan. Several sleepless nights in a small stone cell with no food or water hadn't been kind to the already-flimsy mage. On closer inspection, he was injured. He was smeared with blood, and a few raw wounds showed through rips in his robes. He had been tortured.

"Please, let me out of here. I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he pleaded.

"What do you mean? What do you know?" Elisa demanded.

"I'll explain, but please," Jowan sounded weak, "I need water."

Elisa paused briefly. She reached into her pack and pulled out her water canteen. She slid it through the bars of the cell, and Jowan accepted it gratefully. He gulped it down desperately, water dribbling down his neck. He eventually stopped, and handed the canteen back significantly lighter.

"Thank you," Jowan gasped, wiping his mouth, "Though I expect you will regret that soon enough."

"Why is that?"

Jowan averted his eyes. "I poisoned the Arl."

"You what?" Alistair exclaimed. Elisa held up a hand.

"Explain," she said evenly.

"I'm a maleficar... a blood mage," Jowan explained haltingly. "I ran away from the Circle, but I was captured. Teyrn Loghain approached me with a second chance. He told me the Arl was an enemy of Ferelden, and if I poisoned him he would fix everything with the Chantry."

"You? A blood mage? I would never have guessed," Morrigan said with genuine surprise.

"What does this have to do with the undead?" Elisa pressed. "Isolde said something about Connor."

"I was getting to that," Jowan replied. "You see, Connor is a mage."

"He's a mage?" Alistair asked. "Then why isn't he at the Circle?"

"Isolde couldn't bear to send him away," Jowan explained. "She hired me to train him to hide his powers. She came to me screaming that I undo what I had done. I thought she meant me poisoning the Arl. She... had me tortured. That's the first I heard of the walking corpses."

"And what about you?" Elisa asked.

"I want to help you," Jowan said sincerely. "I caused this. I just want to help set things right."

"I say kill the mage," Sten said shortly. "He cannot be trusted."

"He doesn't need to _die_, surely," Alistair interjected, a little too forcefully. Hmm, don't remember this dialogue from the game. Nice to see Alistair showing his sympathetic side, though.

"I say this boy could still be of use to us," Morrigan added. "But if not, then let him go. Why keep him prisoner here?" Wow, that's the most sympathetic I've ever seen Morrigan get.

"Hey, hey!" Alistair shot back, "Let's not forget he's a blood mage! You can't just... set a blood mage free!"

"Better to slay him? Better to punish him for his choices?" the Witch of the Wilds snapped. "Is this Alistair who speaks or the templar?"

"I'd say it's _common sense_," Alistair replied. "We don't even know the whole story yet." Exactly, but I do – and I've always been sympathetic to Jowan. It annoyed me when I found out he was a cut party member. But maybe we can recruit him now!

"I think we should let him out," I said quietly. "At least to let him help. He seems sincere."

Elisa remained silent. She was staring Jowan in the eye. There was a long pause.

"I'm letting you out," she said. Alistair did a double-take. "But you have to come with us."

Jowan nodded almost instantly. Elisa inclined her head, and Leliana picked the heavy iron lock. The door swung open and Jowan stepped out. He looked almost emaciated after his time in there. He looked around awkwardly.

"To whom do I owe my gratitude?" Jowan asked.

"Elisa Cousland," Elisa replied.

"The Grey Wardens," Alistair said at the same time. Jowan glanced between them.

"Well... lead on Warden," he said. Alistair shot him a dirty look, but dropped the matter. We moved off through the dungeon, Jowan moving quite unsteadily after so long in his cell. To be honest, it looked like a light breeze would blow him over. It was still nice to have another mage in the party, however briefly. Oddly enough, we exited the dungeon without running into any more zombies. Things were changing way too much for my tastes, especially with Jowan tagging along. I pushed the thought out of my mind as we entered the castle courtyard.

Almost instantly an arrow struck the ground ahead of us. We ducked back into the safety of the doorway we had come from, and another arrow skittered off the stone wall to the left. There was a pause as we waited to make sure the arrows had stopped. Alistair slowly edged out of the doorway, shield raised high. Three arrows embedded themselves deep into the wood, and he ducked back inside.

"Archers up the stairs," he said. "They have guards too. There's a lot."

Elisa unhooked her longbow and strung it. Leliana stepped up next to her, readying her own shortbow. Alistair was front and centre, banking on his shield to protect him. Morrigan was behind us, ready to use her magic. Jowan was staying back, too weak to be of much use. I stood next to him, my broken arm making it impossible for me to heft my shield.

"What is my role?" Sten asked.

"Open the gates," Elisa replied. "You'll have the easiest time of it."

He nodded. We got ready and waited for Elisa's signal. She readied an arrow and leaned to the side, drawing on the string. The arrow's fletching reached her cheek, and she took a while to judge her shot. Elisa was a powerfully-built woman, but I could see her muscled arms shiver from the strain. The bow's draw was enormous. She loosed, and the arrow struck the archer square in the chest. The Warden darted to the side and drew another arrow. An arrow flashed past her, skittering off her right pauldron with a _clink_. Alistair lunged in front of her, and a second arrow thudded into his shield. Elisa's second arrow missed. Leliana's didn't.

"Can't you use your magic?" I hissed at Jowan. He shook his head.

"I'm just not strong enough yet," he replied. " Well, I could use my blood magic... but no, never."

I made a quizzical noise.

"Even if my energy is depleted, I can use blood magic. It's powered by my life force... or someone else's," Jowan explained quickly.

" Fascinating," I said quickly, looking back at the battlefield. The archers were down, but the rest of the zombies were coming. Morrigan pointed her staff at the stairs and fire erupted from the gnarled tip like a flamethrower. A rolling plume of fire rushed across the steps, expertly controlling the choke point. Elisa took the chance to sling her bow away and draw her swords. Leliana took down another zombie, firing like a turret.

"Sten!" Elisa called. "How's the gate situation?"

Sten didn't answer. The sudden clanking rush of armoured feet did that for him. Amongst the noise was the rapid _clipclopclipclop_ of iron-shod hooves. Elisa and Alistair wisely parted, and Malcolm came barrelling into view astride Epona. The mounted Warden bowled over the corpses like tenpins, and crushed whatever remained with his mace and axe. Ser Perth and his knights followed closely.

"With me!" Elisa called, racing up the steps two at a time. Her valour was infectious, and we followed without a second thought. Malcolm dropped off Epona, leaving the horse in the courtyard. I hung back with Jowan as well all burst through the main doors, soon coming to the main hall.

The scene that greeted us was bizarre. It was like one of those comparisons where you have to spot six differences. A handful of impassive guards stood at the edges of the room, but their eyes were unnaturally blank. Teagan was at the opposite end of the hall, performing acrobatic tricks for his nephew's amusement. The red-headed boy himself was standing in front of the fire, watching Teagan's antics with approval. Connor suddenly looked towards us, and I froze. The thing that was staring at us wasn't a boy. It wasn't human.

"Mother," the abomination snapped, its voice too low and distorted to come from a human mouth, "Who are these people?"

"They are your friends, Connor," Isolde stammered. She was standing at the thing's side, her head slumped, subservient.

"You!" the demon said to Elisa accusingly. "You're the one who killed my soldiers."

"You're damn right I did," the Warden said coldly. "What have you done with Connor?"

"It was a fair deal!" the abomination shot back. "I have kept his father alive, and I may do what I want in this world!"

"Nobody tells you what to do!" Teagan piped up deliriously, "Nobody!"

"Quiet, uncle!" the demon snapped. "But... let's keep things _civil_."

The demon inclined its head. Elisa stepped forward to meet it. Alistair followed suit without hesitation. On a random impulse, I walked up with her as well.

"You are powerful," the demon said matter-of-factly. "That much I can see. Tell me – why have you come?"

"I need Eamon," Elisa replied, her tone steely. "The Wardens need his help to end the Blight."

"Let them come!" the demon laughed, Connor's face twisted into a power-mad grin. "The darkspawn will flee in terror in the face of my power!"

Elisa leaned forward ever-so-slightly. "It isn't the darkspawn you should fear." There it was again – that utterly terrifying tone of complete calm. The demon's smile wavered.

"Give Eamon back," she went on. "Now."

"NO!" the demon roared. "He is ours! I won't let you take him!"

The demon writhed in sudden pain, falling on all fours. Isolde raced to its side.

"Mother?" Connor asked, his voice heavy with confusion and fear, "Where am I? What's happened?"

"Oh Connor," Isolde sighed in relief and held her son close.

"Get _away_ from me, woman!" The demon shouted, throwing Isolde off of it. It stood, and its gaze landed on me.

There was a long silence. The demon stared at me for an inordinately long time, so long Elisa and Alistair glanced at me to see what was happening. The demon seemed almost confused. I took a step back.

"You," the demon said. "I know you."

"What?" I exclaimed. "How do you know me?"

"Not you," the demon snapped. "You!"

There was another long silence. Something dawned on the demon's face. It pointed at me.

"KILL HIM!" it roared. The guards came to life, drawing their swords. Teagan got the same glazed look in his eye and drew his own sword, advancing on us. I noticed the demon run out of the room from the corner of my eye. The guards were coming for me. I stumbled back, and Elisa headed off the first guard. She killed him without hesitation, her off-hand sword darting into his neck. Alistair was in the middle of a fierce duel with Teagan, obviously trying not to hurt him. Two more guards were fighting a losing battle against the others, which left one guard after me. He lazily drew his sword back for a forehand chop. I batted it away with my sword and countered with a backhand slice. The guard stumbled back, but prepared to attack again. With a strangled cry, I lunged. The tip of my sword pierced his throat. He collapsed, gurgling.

I realized the enormity of what I had done. I had just killed a person. Not a darkspawn – a _person_. In his final moments, the guard broke free of the demon's spell. He became aware of his mortal wound, and his expression of absolute terror was burned into my brain. He scrabbled at the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. He must have sensed it was useless, because he soon stopped. He looked up at me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Alistair lied. Fighting Darkspawn is easy. You know they're unfeeling monsters. You know they have no compassion, no remorse. I realized the distinction that the game had never bothered to make. I dropped my sword and backed away from the man. I didn't want to look at what I'd done.

I overheard conversation. Alistair had managed to daze Teagan long enough to break the spell. They were going through the discussion about what to do with Connor. I didn't listen. My mind was torn between what I had just done and what the demon had said. What did it mean? Was there some mysterious higher purpose to my being here, or was it something else?

I heard Jowan suggest using his blood magic. Isolde was practically screaming at him. Elisa settled the dispute quickly. We were going to the Circle of Magi to request help. She was going to send a mage into the Fade to kill the demon.

"But what about Connor?" Teagan asked. "Surely he will not stay quiet for that long."

"We crippled his army, and he will be guarded by a Warden and a blood mage," Malcolm replied. "He will not have an opportunity."

Elisa had ordered Malcolm to stay, and he had complied easily. I was somewhat sad to see Malcolm go a second time, and once again wondered just what the hell an extra Grey Warden was going to do to the story.

We had to set out on foot. All the horses in the stables were long dead from starvation or missing. Epona was probably the last horse left in the arling, and she wasn't about to leave Malcolm. We said our goodbyes and left with all possible speed towards the Circle tower.

"Elisa," Alistair piped up, "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked.

"For doing this. Going out of your way to rescue Connor," he clarified. "It's just so... selfless."

"These are dark times, Alistair," Elisa said grimly. "Someone has to be the hero."

"Too true."

A pause.

"And someone has to keep Ventus away from the matches."

"Oh, screw you with a rusty pitchfork."


	6. Chapter 5: Broken Circle

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; Elisa and co. stormed Redcliffe, only to find that the source was Connor, possessed by a demon of Desire. The demon seemed to recognize Ventus, trying to kill him immediately afterwards. Now he goes with the Warden to the Circle of Magi, hopefully to get help for Connor._

_Apologies for the long wait, by the way. _

Chapter Five: Broken Circle

We made camp that night nestled in a dip in the landscape surrounded by trees. I was incapable of wrestling my tent into shape with my arm still in a sling and splinted. Morrigan still didn't know how to heal by magic, but she'd cooked up a poultice that she told me would speed recovery. At any rate, I had to have Elisa help me pitch my tent. Once we were done, she turned to me.

"So, do you have any idea why the demon reacted to you like that?" she asked.

"If I knew, I'd tell you," I replied, just as confused as she was.

"Anyway, I'm sure we'll get some explanation," she said, "If not when we get to the Circle, then maybe when we send the mage to deal with the demon."

She went to start the fire. I reached into my pack and pulled out the bottle of Morrigan's poultice. I gingerly removed my sling and splint, exposing the fragile arm beneath. I smeared the foul-smelling gunk over where I thought the break was, and hissed involuntarily as pain shot up my arm. I corked the bottle one-handed and attempted to re-splint my arm. It wasn't exactly easy. To compound my problems, Barkspawn trotted into view. The Mabari war hound seemed to think that Morrigan's poultice was the most delicious thing on the planet, because it went for my arm with gusto.

"Argh!" I shouted as the dog knocked me over, "No! Bad dog!"

Barkspawn finally took the hint and left me alone. I grumbled and set to work again.

"Need some help?" I turned. Alistair had been watching with amusement.

"No, I'd much prefer to thrash around one-handed some more," I replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Someone's cranky tonight," Alistair remarked. I sat still while he wrapped my arm up again, setting it straight with short, tough lengths of wood. He knotted the sling behind my shoulder. He stood back to admire his handiwork.

"Good as new," he said proudly.

"Any word on how long it'll be until I'm fighting fit?" I asked.

He shrugged. "A break like that? I'd say not until we get back to Redcliffe."

"What about Morrigan's poultice?"

"Quite frankly, I think she's just sneaking you itching powder or making it worse," Alistair replied. "But any time I raise these valid concerns, our illustrious leader tells me to put a sock in it."

"What, you don't agree with her?" I asked, a little confused. Did this mean Elisa wasn't on good terms with Alistair?

"Well, I exaggerated a little," Alistair clarified. "She doesn't care all that much – she even agrees sometimes. She just wants me to stop saying it to her face. Ahh, but the temptation."

"All temptation must me resisted," I said with a falsely stern tone, "You mustn't forget your templar training!"

"Oh no, I remember all right," Alistair replied. "Nothing better to do with a temptation but resist it. I remember, for example, that we were under no circumstances to lick lampposts in winter."

"Oh really?" I played along with his metaphor. "Is this a standard templar policy?"

"Oh yes," the templar replied matter-of-factly. "After all, templars have far better things to do than spend their time removing their tongues from various poles. Chasing demons, for instance."

"And have _you_ ever licked a lamppost in winter?" I asked.

"Of course not. I hear it's quite painful and awkward for all parties involved," Alistair replied, somehow remaining straight-faced. "What about you?"

"I... well..." I faltered a little, "I've _thought_ about it but... not yet."

"Lost your nerve?" he prodded.

"I've been just trying to find the _right_ lamppost, if you know what I mean," I said.

"The kind of lamppost that you want sitting outside your front porch for the rest of your life, you mean?" Alistair asked.

"I suppose."

There was a pause in which only crickets could be heard.

"Just to be clear, are we still talking about sex?" Alistair asked.

"You know what? Even I don't know anymore," I sighed. Alistair chuckled, and I grinned. As he moved off to his own tent, I felt a little more comfortable around him. It felt good. The party gathered at the fire to eat, minus Morrigan once again. We were all out of our armour by now, and it made the fireplace feel like a much more casual place. Elisa had even unbound her hair, the firelight making it seem to glow. I glanced to my left. Alistair was staring at her. I grinned. He saw me watching and lowered his gaze back to his food, blushing. Elisa remained oblivious, busy prodding Sten for information. So far she'd managed to tease out his personal quest – finding his sword.

"So you dropped it at Lake Calenhad?" she asked around a mouthful of meat, "We'll look for it on the way."

"I highly doubt we will find it," Sten replied shortly, "But thank you all the same."

The rest of the meal was fairly silent. The others went off to their tents, happy with an early-night's sleep. I stayed up, unable to sleep. My mind was racing, full of so many thoughts that I couldn't share with anyone. The first problem was, obviously, that I didn't know how to get home. As far as I could tell, my near-death experience in the lake was the reason for my quick trip home. Did that mean I had to die to get home?

I shivered. It had nothing to do with the cold. How was I supposed to just... die? Let myself be killed? The very thought if it made cold fear bubble in my stomach, let alone imagining the pain and fear that would come with such a plan. How did Art decide to do it so easily? How can someone just resign themselves to death like that? I would never be able to. It hurt to admit it, but given the choice between self-sacrifice and life, I would choose life. No second thoughts.

When I think, I always pace. The more room available, the further I go. In my reverie I had wandered away from the flickering fire and ended up by Morrigan's tent. She was sitting by the glowing coals of her own fire, watching me lazily with her pale yellow eyes. I exhaled a puff of fog.

"What brings you here at this hour?" she asked. Thankfully, she didn't seem annoyed.

"I was just checking up on you," I replied. Well, it was basically true. I always wondered what she got up to away from the rest of us.

"And why is that?" she inquired. "Do you lack confidence in my ability to look after myself?"

"No, but having someone concerned for your wellbeing is rarely a hinderance."

She paused to consider this. "Tis a sensible enough reason." Phew. "But not the real reason you came." Damn it.

"I was thinking."

"A rare pastime in close proximity to Alistair," the apostate remarked. "Do tell – I shall do the thinking for the whole party before long."

I hesitated. There's no way I can tell Morrigan what I'm really thinking about, right? Somehow I don't think she'll understand if I say I'm from another world.

"You need not concern yourself overmuch," Morrigan said sardonically. "I have no interest in your secrets, whatever they are."

"If you... if you had to die," I said haltingly, "To do something incredibly important, would you do it?"

I could see a flash of surprise and suspicion cross her face. She must think I'm talking about how the Archdemon is defeated! She looked away and mastered it quickly, and the emotions disappeared from her features as if they had never been there.

"And what, pray, led to this?" she asked.

"I... um... no reason," I said weakly.

"You are a terrible liar," she sighed, "But that is beside the point. To answer the latest in your barrage of questions – no. Survival is the most important thing in life – all else is secondary."

Her lips twisted into a sneer. "Especially love," she went on, pronouncing the word as if it was a dirty curse. "I remain ignorant as to why the world seems to hold such an infatuation with it. Love is like a cancer that consumes all involved."

She turned to me conversationally, "For example, have you heard this old story? I read it once from a book I found. A boy and a girl from two warring Antivan families fall hopelessly in love at first sight?"

Her already sing-song voice grew even more patronising, "They struggle to overcome all odds and defy their families for the sake of their 'pure' love."

I nodded. "I'm not that much of a fan either."

"The only thing that stopped me from burning the book afterwards was that they both died at the end," Morrigan remarked. "At least something from that story was realistic."

"Actually, I think that was the point," I said. Morrigan raised an eyebrow. High school English, don't fail me now.

"The story was about how stupid the lovers were to get so obsessed with each other that they forgot everything else," I forged on. "So it's trying to say that letting love or anything else take over your life is something to be avoided."

Morrigan considered this. "Tis a much better explanation. Now I am glad I did not burn the book."

"But it wasn't saying that _love_ is bad," I went on. Morrigan looked curious again. Uh-oh – time to break out a KOTOR quote. Well, I would if I could remember it. Damn it, don't piss her off now!

"Passion can lead to obsession, which is bad for anyone. But love by itself... love saves you," I said. Morrigan was silent for a while. I was instantly struck by how cheesy I had sounded, and started contemplating slipping away while Morrigan was distracted.

She turned back to me. "I have never seen someone balance intelligence and stupidity so elegantly as you."

"Um... thank you?"

"I wonder which you are," she went on. "Perhaps both. Perhaps neither."

She stood up. "Leave me – I wish to go to bed."

"You go ahead and do that," I muttered to myself as she ducked into her tent. "Don't let me stop you."

I sighed angrily and wandered off to my own tent. Getting on Morrigan's good side was like climbing a cliff covered in landmines. Anything I grabbed for purchase was just as likely to blow my hand off as steady me. I gave up thinking about it and went to bed.

The next day we set off again. It was a week's travel to the Circle, but Elisa chafed at the thought of a two-week round trip with Connor sitting back at Redcliffe. She set a punishing pace, and at times I was worried I'd fall behind. But any time I stumbled, Leliana or Alistair seemed in just the right position to nudge me back upright. We made camp once it was too dark to travel safely.

I was struggling one-handed with mine, hoping Elisa was going to come and help again, when I heard movement behind me. I turned, and started as I saw Morrigan standing very close to me.

"You move pretty quietly," I observed, a little shaken.

"It comes from much practice," she replied. "Now hold out your arm."

I did.

"Your left arm," she clarified. I gingerly removed it from the sling and offered it to her. She pulled it closer, eliciting a pained hiss from me. She produced a scroll from a pouch in her robes and unrolled it one-handed, her gaze flicking between it and my arm. She mouthed to herself quietly, her brow furrowed in concentration. I felt a tingle through my skin, and a blue light flared briefly over my arm.

"There," she said. I carefully moved my arm. The bone was just fine now. I removed the splint and prodded my forearm. Good as new.

"Thank you, Morrigan," I said gratefully.

"You should be careful," she added. "The bone will still be fragile for some days, but it will be fully healed by the time we reach the Circle."

"I thought you didn't know how to heal by magic," I said curiously.

"I did not," she replied. "Flemeth never taught me. She was of the opinion that any injury I incurred would serve to deter me from making the same mistake twice. She gave me a scroll that detailed such a process before I took the Warden from the Wilds. An act of kindness, perhaps. Or an act of pragmatism."

"Oh," I didn't know what else to say. "Thank you again, Morrigan."

She left again.

The next day, I explained my miraculous recovery as we set off. I still had some difficulty keeping up with the others. We finally made camp again, all extremely tired.

Well, all save for Elisa, apparently.

"Come on, get up," she said brightly, nudging me off my bedroll with her foot, "It's time for that training you asked for."

"Buggeroff," I mumbled back. She hauled me to my feet and marched me over to a clear spot. It looked like she'd made good on her promise found some training swords at Redcliffe. She tossed me my shield and a wooden sword, which was surprisingly heavy.

"It's filled with lead," she explained, enjoying herself a little too much. "That way a real sword seems light in comparison."

"I hate you," I grumbled.

"Love you too, Ventus," she replied brightly, producing wooden swords of her own. They seemed light in her hands.

"First lesson; always keep your shield up," Elisa said, attacking suddenly. I snapped my shield up. Her right-hand sword bounced off lazily, but her left-hand sword slapped against my side.

"Second lesson; keep your eyes on _both_ your opponent's hands," she added. "Most people concentrate on the sword so hard they don't notice a shield slamming into their heads or a knife in their stomachs."

Elisa pressed the attack, relying mostly on her main-hand sword. She was fast, and strong. I worked hard to fend her off, but she still rained blows on my shoulders, chest and legs.

"So, have you figured out my secret yet?" she asked. It came to me. She attacked again, but instead of defending I put my entire body weight behind a massive shield bash. It slammed painfully into her sword-arm and knocked her weapon aside. Of course, she rapped me over the head with her off-hand sword afterwards, but I still felt some pride.

"Your secret being that you're not very good on defence, so you go for overwhelming offense because then nobody gets a chance to capitalize on that?" I asked.

"Exactly," she replied. "I'm pretty unique in that I use two swords on the front line, but there are probably others who had the same idea. In that case, the best bet is to smack them around with your shield. Break a bone if you can."

She dropped her off-hand sword and picked up a shield. "Now try offense."

I went a little better this time. We fought under normal speed, Elisa constantly spouting advice and corrections. I should hold my shield like this. Slash like this, not like that. A parry is supposed to look like this. Yes, I know this is supposed to prepare you for a real fight, but no, you are not allowed to hit me in the head with your shield again. Especially since I just did my hair.

We finished the lesson, me drenched in sweat and panting.

"Wasn't that supposed to be the part where I dazzle you with my unseen talent, beat you and earn your begrudging respect?" I asked.

"I know," she said with mock disappointment, "I'm starting to think you aren't secretly a demigod, master assassin or the rightful heir to the throne. In fact, I have a suspicion that you're an army recruit I picked up at a refugee town."

"I could still surprise you," I pointed out. "Maybe I have amnesia, and will remember my vast skill with a sword at a critical moment?"

"Maybe you're a mage possessed by a powerful demon," she suggested.

"Now you're just being silly."

We continued like this for the rest of the trip, hiking by day and training by night. It was utterly exhausting, and I was constantly hungry. I refused to complain, though. The last thing the party needed was my whining. I didn't know if it was just me, but I felt like I was getting stronger. I was training longer with Elisa each time. She would still hand me my ass in sparring, but I could take more beatings. Which was a victory. I think.

By the time we reached the Lake Calenhad docks we'd shaved a day off the projected travel time. Elisa seemed happy with this, and let us rest before going to the tower. At least, we would have gone to the tower if not for the templar blocking the way.

"Nobody goes to the tower," he said. "Strict orders."

"I have to go, I'm a Grey Warden," Elisa said.

"Oh, really?" he replied, sceptical. "Prove it."

"Prove it?" Elisa repeated incredulously.

"Do some darkspawn-slaying, then!" he ordered. "Let's see some righteous Grey Wardening."

"Don't be ridiculous," Elisa said irritably.

"Aha, I knew it! A real Grey Warden is supposed to be able to sense Darkspawn!" the templar exclaimed.

"I can't _sense_ any because there _aren't _any," the Warden said tersely.

"That's good, I suppose. Wouldn't want any darkspawn smeared across the docks now, would we?" the templar went on. "I hear their blood is black. Is that true? You'd know if you were a Grey Warden."

Alistair rolled his eyes in the background, but stayed quiet.

"It's red. Just like normal blood," Elisa answered, "But look, we need to get to the tower."

"Sorry. Orders!" the templar said enthusiastically. "Though I am a bit hungry. Maybe..."

"You want me..." Elisa said slowly, "A Grey Warden... to take time out of my quest to _save Ferelden_... to _feed you?_"

"Pashaara!" Sten exclaimed. "Here. Munch on these if you like."

"Oh! Cookies!" the templar said brightly, taking the confectionaries from Sten. He began to demolish them with clearly audible 'om nom nom' noises.

"I am content to part with them if it saves us from this fool," the quinari rumbled.

"Where did you get those?" Elisa asked, surprised.

"From a fat, slovenly thing that didn't need them," Sten replied.

"Hey, my cookies are missing!" I realized.

We rowed across the moonlit lake towards the island. We could only fit in two boats, so the templar borrowed a second one from a fisherman. Elisa, Alistair and Leliana rode up front with the templar. I sat in the back with Sten, Morrigan and Barkspawn.

"Such extravagance," Sten said disapprovingly, looking up at the Circle tower, "Our mage's prisons are nowhere near as large."

"The less we speak of this place the better," Morrigan said, her arms folded. "Perhaps Ventus will burn this down as well?"

"Are we _seriously_ still on that?" I exclaimed. Barkspawn woofed.

"I agree," Sten said shortly. "You executed a plan, and it had consequences. Enough has been said."

"If you would pause a moment before jumping down my throat," Morrigan replied, "I was going to say that I approved of your plan."

"Huh?" I was taken aback.

"The peasants of Redcliffe seemed more concerned with their material possessions than the fact that you had saved their lives," Morrigan went on. "Frankly, they should be grateful."

"Uh... thanks Morrigan," I said.

We docked at the tower. It was even more impressive up close, looming over us so tall I could barely see the top. We were led inside, and the scene inside wasn't pretty. Wounded men lay on bedrolls in the far corner, moaning and clutching bloodied bandages. Templars ran back and forth, their plate armour jangling as they went. Two templars bearing greatswords stood at the door across the room from us, ready to fight. In the centre of all this was a templar I knew to be Greagoir. He turned to face us.

"Carol, what is this? I specifically ordered you to let no one pass!" he snapped.

"What about Grey Wardens?" Elisa interjected. Greagoir sighed.

"I am tired of the Grey Warden's ceaseless need for more men to fight the Blight, but it is their right."

"It's our right because otherwise the darkspawn kill everyone. Is that good enough reason?" the Warden asked sarcastically.

"I am not in the mood to take such treatment-" He paused, about to ask for a name.

"Lady Cousland, if you want to be technical," Elisa cut him off. "But that's beside the point. Where are my mages?"

"I shall speak plainly," Greagoir sounded exhausted. "The tower is no longer under our control. Blood mages and abominations stalk its halls. We were only just able to seal the doors."

"This is why we cut the tongues from our mages in Par Vollen," Sten observed stonily.

"Much as it pains me, I agree with your friend," Greagoir went on. "I have sent word to Denerim for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment."

"Things can't be _that_ bad, can they?" Alistair asked quietly.

"The what?" Elisa asked.

"It means they get to kill everyone in the tower," Alistair replied. Elisa's face went through a wide range of emotions, before setting to stubborn determination. She rounded on Greagoir.

"No you aren't," she said firmly. "I'm going in."

"But Warden, that would be suicide!" Greagoir protested. "You have no idea how powerful abominations are!"

Well actually the Circle is the easiest area in the game bar the starters, but that's beside the point. Knowing my luck, in this universe abominations have become T-rexes.

"I don't care how powerful they are," Elisa replied calmly. "Stab anything enough and it dies."

"True," Greagoir said finally. "But you must understand that there is no turning back. Once you go inside, my men will lock the doors again. I will _only_ reopen them if the First Enchanter tells me that all is well, is that clear?"

"I'll have it done before sunrise."

We gathered to resupply. We made sure our armour was in good repair and our weapons were in order. We left our gear piled in a corner, and left Barkspawn to guard it. We moved toward the doorway into the Circle tower – the entire party was coming, which certainly helped matters.

"Last chance to back out, Ventus," Elisa whispered to me. "I won't think less of you if you sit this out."

"I told you I wouldn't let you down again," I whispered back. "I meant it."

I sounded a lot braver than I felt – but I couldn't just sit in the lobby and wait for the rest of the party to finish risking their lives. I was going to follow them through thick and thin – at least, until I found a way home.

We stepped through the door. It closed with an ominous-sounding _boom_.

"Don't worry," Elisa said brightly. "If we take too long Barkspawn will chew through the door and come get us."

As if on cue, there was a loud bark, a growl and a rather high-pitched shriek.

"Someone's been at our gear," Elisa remarked.

Predictably, the ground floor was empty save for corpses. We continued along the hallway and came across another large room. Inside we saw a Rage demon just before it was destroyed, the fiery creature dissipating into the air. Its destroyer was Wynne. The first thing that struck me was how old she looked. Whether it was engine limitations or deliberate, in the games she had looked good for someone who kept complaining about how old she was. In person, she looked at least sixty.

"Wynne? What are you doing here?" Elisa greeted the mage. Oh wait, you can meet Wynne at Ostagar – I forgot about that. Wynne quickly gave her spiel while I waited for Elisa to get her in the party. It was about time we got her – with her healing abilities I'd never taken her out of the party.

"Ventus?" I whirled around. Wynne was looking at me.

"I had thought you lost at Ostagar!" she said, obviously glad. "I'd never thought you would go gallivanting off to travel with Grey Wardens."

"You know her?" Elisa asked. What the hell is going on? Not only did Wynne somehow know me by my assumed name, but she apparently knew me from Ostagar. I wasn't even there! How am I supposed to-

_I shouldered my pack. Ostagar was alive with soldiers, servant elves scurrying from camp to camp bearing food, water, arms and letters. It was overwhelming. I shrank out of the open, not wanting to get in the way. My pack was light – all I had was what little money I had saved and the clothes on my back. However, I had heard the King's soldiers were well-paid. _

"_Lost, are you?" I turned. It was a silver-haired woman, many years my senior. She wore loose brown robes. _

"_Are you... a mage?" I asked._

"_Yes I am," she replied. "And no, I am not about to turn you into a frog. My name is Wynne. What is yours?"_

"_Ventus," I replied. "But call me Ven – everyone does. I mean, my friends do. I mean, two people do."_

"_Calm down, son," Wynne chuckled. "I won't bite your head off."_

_She motioned me closer. We sat down away from the centre of camp._

"_What brings a boy like you to Ostagar?"_

_#%$_

_##_

"_I see," she said. "I would think your parents are very proud of you."_

"_Are we really going to fight darkspawn?" I asked. "I've heard so many things about them-"_

"_Don't be afraid. Teyrn Loghain is one of the finest tactical minds of the age. I am sure he will lead us to victory."_

"Ventus? Are you all right?"

I blinked rapidly. I landed back in the present roughly, little lights going off behind my eyes like shooting stars. Elisa was looking at me with concern on her face.

"Sorry, had a headache," I said quickly, unable to process what I had just seen. I rubbed my eyes. Was that... a memory? How can I be remembering things I never experienced?

Wynne had joined the party. Evidently the rest of the conversation had transpired while I was spaced out. As we moved off, Wynne moved closer to me.

"Do not worry, Ven," she whispered conspiratorially, "Your secret is safe with me."

_What_ secret?

We moved on. We stopped just outside First Enchanter Irving's study.

"There may be something useful in there," she mused. "We'll search it."

Wynne didn't seem to mind us ransacking her boss' office. I suppose a lot of things are acceptable when total destruction is on the line. We stepped inside and paused a moment.

"So many books," Alistair commented. "Do you think he's really read all these?"

"There are not many pastimes in the Circle," Wynne replied.

"Ah. I'll just be quiet then."

"More importantly, maybe there's some record of what started this," Elisa said.

I moved to the bookshelves. I know Flemeth's grimoire is supposed to be here. The problem is, I have no idea where it is or what it looks like. I busied myself rapidly scanning the spines of the massive array of books.

"I have something," Elisa called. The party turned to look at her. She was holding two pieces of paper.

"The first isn't about the Circle. It's about Jowan," she went on. "He's been authorized for something called the Rite of Tranquillity. It's dated about when I left for Ostagar."

"The Rite of Tranquillity..." Wynne repeated with a little shudder. "I was at Ostagar when this happened. Why was Jowan-"

"He's a blood mage," Elisa said grimly. "Says so right here. He must have escaped when he saw this. Problem is, he went and poisoned Arl Eamon."

"Does this mean he had a good reason to escape?" Leliana wondered.

"All mages have good reason to escape _this_ place," Morrigan said bitterly.

"All mages have good reason to be imprisoned," Sten rumbled.

"Tell me," Elisa asked, ignoring Wynne's look of shock, "What is the Rite of Tranquility?"

"I... I cannot explain. We will see one of the Tranquil soon enough," Wynne said. "What of the other paper?"

"Someone named Uldred came back from Ostagar. From the looks of this he was inciting rebellion, trying to get the Circle to overthrow the templars," Elisa recited, her eyes flicking down the page.

"I think it's a diary page," she said. "It ends a few days ago."

I finally found it. I knew it had to be Flemeth's grimoire because of how out-of-place it looked. Among the neat and tidy tomes this looked like it was thrown together out in the forest, the rough cover apparently made of animal skin. I slid it out of the shelf and let it fall open. The pages settled where Irving had placed a scrap of parchment as a bookmark. The text was muddled and confusing, but I managed to discern it by squinting. I noticed Flemeth mentioned by name a bunch of times, and read a passage about her daughters. This was definitely the right book.

"Morrigan?" I called. "Do you know what this is?"

She took the book from me and flicked through it. At first she was slow, but as realization dawned on her she moved faster and faster. Her eyes lit up.

"Tis Flemeth's grimoire," she said in hushed tones. "Long have I searched for this."

"For what? Spells?"

"Secrets," she said knowingly. "Flemeth has always kept much from me. With this, I may learn much about her."

She slid the book safely into her robes. "Thank you, Ventus."

"No problem," I said to myself as she turned away. We continued onwards.

Further up the tower, we came across blood mages. There were two of them, and they noticed us quickly. One threw a fireball at Elisa, but Alistair appeared out of nowhere to catch it with his shield. The second threw a bolt of lightning. An identical bolt flew from Morrigan's staff and struck it in mid-air. The two spells collapsed around each other with a flash of light. Wynne cast a spell of her own and a fist of stone slammed into the first blood mage, collapsing his ribs with the force. Leliana downed the second with an arrow through the thigh.

Elisa began to interrogate the wounded blood mage.

"What happened here? Why is the tower overrun?" the Warden demanded.

"Uldred, he..." the blood mage began, "he told us we should fight. He told us we couldn't live under the templar rule anymore."

"And do you know why you live under the templar rule?" Alistair butted in. "Because of exactly this happening."

"Alistair is right," Wynne added. "By doing this, you have only made things worse for mages everywhere."

"We thought..." the mage said, clutching her wounded leg, "We thought; someone has to take the first step."

She looked up at Elisa. "Please... show mercy. Let me go."

"I can't," the Warden said quietly. "If I let you go, you'll run straight into the Templars. If you stay here, then maybe when I free the tower they'll arrest you instead."

"Thank you, my lady," the blood mage said gratefully. Alistair gave Elisa a look of admiration.

I stood back, feeling happy. First encounter with blood mages, and I didn't even have a scratch on me! Granted I hadn't done any fighting, but that was beside the point. None of that 'getting tossed around' stuff like Art-

There had been three mages. The third had been hiding behind a dresser, and chose that moment to jump out. He appeared right next to me, brandishing a knife. I cried out and lunged backwards, throwing my hands up to defend myself. The knife came down, and pain blossomed in my hand. I landed flat on my back. I looked over at my right hand, and saw I had a bloody hole clean through my palm.

The things I said cannot be repeated within earshot of innocent young children. Wynne crouched at my side and cast a healing spell. I felt a tingle in my skin, but the wound seemed to remain. She cast it again, which seemed to improve things a little.

"Can't you just, y'know, fix him?" Alistair asked.

"It may be called 'magic' but I can't work miracles," Wynne replied. "The bleeding has stopped but he won't be fighting for a little while."

"Son of a- I just got my broken arm fixed!" I said angrily. My hand was bandaged, still throbbing angrily with pain. I swapped my scabbard to my right hip so I could fight left-handed, though I didn't hold much stock in my non-dominant hand.

Up to the next level, we came across the stockroom. Predictably, the Tranquil in charge was busy trying to clean up. What was his name? Owain, or something?

"What are you doing?" Elisa asked. "Don't you realize there are demons here?"

"Yes, I do," the Tranquil replied, in his eerie monotone voice. "I am sure if they were to discover me, I would soon be killed."

"That... doesn't worry you?" Elisa was growing more confused.

"Of course not," the Tranquil said, "I have to attend to the stockroom. It really is in such a state. It is not fit to be seen."

Elisa's brow furrowed in confusion. Suddenly, realization hit her. She turned to Wynne.

"The Rite of Tranquillity takes away their emotions, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," Wynne replied quietly. "Those who undergo it at cut off from the Fade. They no longer dream."

Leliana gave a little gasp of horror. Morrigan looked absolutely disgusted.

"No wonder he ran away," Elisa said. "If the Circle would do this to one of their own."

"Do you think I condone it?" Wynne asked. "I don't – but it is the only way to ensure a mage never becomes an abomination."

"If someone has no emotions, then what is the point of living?" Elisa said. "Doing this to someone is as good as killing them – no, it's crueller. You're condemning someone to a hollow, pointless existence."

"Mages deserve no less for the threat they pose," Sten replied. "Thinking any less is naïveté."

Elisa rounded on him. "That's great, Sten. Unfortunately I'm not on a quest to impress you – I'm on a quest to _save Ferelden_. So how about you stow the comments until _after_ we're done being locked in a tower full of abominations?"

"As you wish," Sten said. _Sten Approves_, I thought to myself. Unfortunately, we'd have to move on to the part I had been most dreading. We climbed the stairs again.

We were on the penultimate floor, in the central area. A bloodied mage that I knew to be Niall lay unconscious on the floor. An abomination stood next to him, and it turned slowly. Its malformed body looked utterly repulsive. Fleshy growths had sprouted from its shoulders that glistened sickeningly. Its face had mutated until it looked barely human. Its hands seemed almost like claws. It regarded us impassively.

"More people," it said, its tone bored. "I would entertain you but... too much effort involved."

"Let us pass, demon!" Elisa ordered, brandishing her swords.

"You look so... tired," the Sloth abomination said, ignoring her. "Don't you just want to rest?"

"We'll rest when we've killed every last one of you!" Alistair said forcefully.

"But don't your eyelids feel heavy?" The abomination went on in its soporific voice. "Don't you just want to lie down and... forget about all this?"

As it spoke, my eyes _did_ feel a bit tired. Maybe a quick nap wouldn't – no, what're you saying! It's just trying to put you in the Fade! I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus.

"Feeling... sleepy..." Alistair yawned, "Someone... pinch... me..."

"You have... no power... over me... demon!" Leliana struggled to say.

"Resist!" Wynne called. "Resist or we are lost!"

"Sleep," the demon repeated. I was so exhausted, and wounded. My knees buckled under me, and I toppled to the ground. I heard the others slump over as well. Ah well. I'm sure everything will be fine. I'm just so tired. I'll just sleep for a little while.

I closed my eyes.


	7. Chapter 6: Dreams and Demons

And then I woke up.

My alarm clock was beeping furiously in my ear. I groaned in that Neanderthal-like way teenagers are supposed to and rolled over to slap it. I rolled the wrong way and fell out of bed. I managed to land right on my right hand, which I had managed to put a nail through while helping my dad out around the house. It was bandaged, but it still hurt.

"Ow, damn it!" I stood up, scratching my hair. Sunlight filtered through a crack in my curtains. I pulled them open and looked out at the street. It was kind of relaxing to see the familiar suburban homes and cars race across my field of vision. That dream... that has been _weird_. It was like I'd dropped acid before going to bed or something.

It had felt so _real_, though. Maybe I should stop playing so many videogames late at night. But hey – it's the holidays, right? I should be able to relax a little.

I pushed the thought out of my mind. I pulled on some clothes, which felt a little tighter than usual. I guess I was still growing... which reminded me. Today was my birthday! My sixteenth, to be precise. I almost facepalmed. Just how stupid do you have to be to forget your own birthday?

I stumbled out of my room, wrestling my pants on mid-step. I passed my two cats on the way down the hall, and they meowed at me for attention. I walked into the kitchen to find my mum cooking pancakes for breakfast.

"You're up early," she noted.

"Yes, well my cave is starting to smell," I replied.

"Don't worry, I'll clean it out once I'm done with breakfast," she said.

"Huh... thanks," I said. Usually my mum would tell me to get off my lazy ass at do it myself. I guess she's just trying to give me a good birthday. I didn't question it. I went to the living room and dumped myself on the couch. My dogs were lying on their bed, but the big bull-mastiffs trotted over to me for attention the minute they saw me.

"Ok, fine, you can have pats," I told the dogs, "But no slobbering on me."

Shortly afterwards, my mum laid down a plate of pancakes in front of me. Again, something she wouldn't normally do, but I appreciated it all the same. I wolfed them down gratefully. Wow, I was really hungry. I wandered back to my bedroom, planning to just waste some time. I was going to hang out with some friends later to celebrate my birthday.

I sat down at my desk and looked up at my games. Some PSP games, Mass Effect 1 and 2 and Metro 2033. Wasn't there supposed to be another game there? It was some medieval western RPG. Dragon something? It wasn't important.

I swivelled my chair around to face my electronic keyboard. I had recently started learning some piano songs from my favourite games, and practiced in my spare time. I figured this was one of those times.

I played the one I'd first started, one I knew basically off by heart. It was light and melancholy, played slowly and with a lot of sharps.

Wait a second... what was this called again? I couldn't remember, even as I strained my memory. I kept playing. I sped up, playing the notes louder as I reached a climax in the piece. I remembered the piece's name.

_To whom do I owe my rescue?_

_My name is..._

_Ventus._

I stood back, pain lancing through my head. What the hell was going on? It felt like it had something to do with that dream. I tried to recall the dream. It was already fading fast, like all my dreams. I already couldn't remember any names or descriptions – just the basic events. It had something to do with a video game.

I have to clear my head. I stormed out the door, clutching my head. Something wasn't right. Something important... something...

A figure ran down the road towards me. I gaped in surprise. I couldn't even tell if the figure was male or female. It appeared to be wearing a hooded sweatshirt and track pants.

The figure pulled back its hood with its free hand. It was a woman – and quite an attractive one at that. She had dirty blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, save for two errant bangs hanging over her face, and muddy brown eyes. She seemed... familiar.

"Ven!" She exclaimed, obviously glad to see me, "You have to come with me, it's not safe here!

"Who are you?" I asked, backing away from the desperate woman.

"Ven, we don't have time for that! It's me, Elisa!" She pressed desperately, gripping my shoulders.

_Elisa Cousland_

"Why don't we have time?" I asked the woman.

"Your dream – it's different from the others! The people are attacking me!" she explained hurriedly, and looked over her shoulder. A car was barrelling down the road towards us. The woman grabbed my arm and dragged me away down the street.

"What are you _talking_ about?" I asked.

A car screeched to a halt in front of us, blocking off the street. It was a police cruiser. The driver side door opened and the policeman climbed out.

"Officer, what's going on?" I asked. Was this woman some kind of escaped lunatic? Why was she so familiar?

The officer reached to his holster and drew his handgun. He levelled it at the woman's chest.

The woman dodged to the side just as the gun went off. The bullet whizzed past her and into the street beyond. The woman darted forward and clamped her right hand over the policeman's wrist, hauling the gun off-centre. She hit him in the throat with a vicious left-hand chop. The man gurgled and fell, blood leaking from his mouth. His larynx had been crushed. She scooped up the fallen gun.

"What the hell did you just do!" I yelled.

"He's not _real_!" the woman shot back. "This is the Fade! The only problem is I know these people aren't demons. They're something else."

She gingerly picked up the gun and turned to me. "I need you to wake up. You have to remember!"

"I'm _telling _you, I _don't know what you're talking about!_" I yelled. More bystanders were assembling, forming a crowd that encircled us. The woman stayed close to me, holding up the stolen gun.

"Projections," I said suddenly.

"What?"

"LikeInception," I said. "They're parts of my consciousness. They know you're not supposed to be here, so they're trying to get rid of you."

She seemed slightly relieved. "So you know it's a dream. Can you get us out?"

"I still don't know who you are!" I said desperately.

The projections attacked. The woman raised the gun and pumped the trigger. Fourteen bullets sprayed the crowd, and some of the projections toppled over dead. It was with unsettling fear that I noticed there were only five individuals – they were copied ad nauseum like a bad video game.

"Wake up!" Elisa screamed as she was dragged to the ground. "WAKE UP!"

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"_Has he shown any more brain activity?"_

"_No. It looks like that spike was a one-off thing."_

"_Have the parents decided?"_

"_No – but I know what I'd do. Look at him – the kid's wasting away. He'll be skin and bone before long. It's just cruel keeping him like this."_

I collapsed on the ground, curled up in a ball. Pain was lancing through my head. I heard Elisa's screams as the mob tore her apart. I heard voices from the hospital ward where my comatose body was lying. I didn't even know if the road I was lying on was real.

"WAKE UP!"

_WAKE UP!_

_**WAKE UP!**_

"Leave me alone!" I yelled, covering my ears. The projections converged on me. Their grasping hands were all over me, grabbing me roughly. I was lifted bodily into the air. They were dragging me back down the road.

"I SAID; LEAVE ME ALONE!" I roared. They dropped me. There was a palpable moment of tense silence. I rolled over painfully. I was still in the centre of a mass of projections, but they were looking at something. Something bright. I stood, and shielded my eyes. Something was coming towards me, protected by an incandescent light. I could barely make out a figure within the light, and it held out its arms. The projections moved back, slowly at first, but then faster. They were terrified of the figure.

"Don't you think it's time to wake up?" A voice asked, a voice that was so familiar...

The figure offered its hand.

"Who are you?" I asked, as I took it.

"Call me Ven," it replied, and everything went dark.

* * *

And then I woke up. I was in the Fade. I was standing on an isolated island, floating amidst the raw Fade. I was eighteen again; just I had been before entering the Fade. I was still in my armour, and my pierced hand throbbed painfully. I looked around.

"Well, this is barely an improvement," I commented. I felt something – a presence. Someone was on the island with me.

I turned around again. There were my parents, as real as the last time I'd seen them. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath hitched.

"Mum?" I said. "Dad?"

"We know you're confused, honey," my mother said sweetly. "But you don't have to be."

"Come with us," my father continued. "You'll be happy."

"B-but..." I stammered, feeling my eyes burn with unwanted tears. "I remember now."

"Remember what, sweetie?" my mother asked.

"What really happened... that night," I went on, the truth almost too much for me to say. "What I've been trying to forget this whole time."

"You've been separated for two years now," I said. I suddenly realized something. Their looks were... off. Close enough to a human being's but not quite right. My 'mother' was perfect and young-looking, even though she was fifty-five. My 'father', on the other hand, had a barely-perceptible blurriness to him. His features were fuzzy and faded, like an old photograph.

"That's why I was sixteen in the dream. That was when I was happiest," I went on, not conscious to what I was saying anymore. "Because back then I didn't think I was the one at fault. Back then I didn't go to sleep wishing I was a totally different person."

The tears were falling now. I rubbed my eyes furiously, ashamed that I was crying.

"It's always been about escapism, hasn't it?" I said rhetorically. "I've always wanted the chance to be the hero. But..."

I sniffed. "I guess I don't have what it takes."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped, and spun around. It was Elisa. She had a solemn look.

"How... how much did you hear?" I stammered, still trying to hide my tears.

"Everything," she said quietly.

"It must be pretty pathetic," I said, turning away. "An eighteen-year-old that just wants his mummy."

I let out a hopeless sigh. "And I haven't accomplished _anything_ travelling with you."

"That's not-"

"Anything _positive_," I cut her off. "Burning down Redcliffe was a fuckup. Don't even pretend otherwise."

I looked up again. My 'mother' was still standing there, looking as sweet and dependable as she always did in my mind. My 'father' had disappeared.

"The best paradise my mind can come up with is one where my parents don't think I'm a total failure," I said, gesturing towards the shade.

"Ven..." Elisa said carefully. "I don't see anyone."

"What?" I turned to face her. "But she's right-"

There was nothing there.

"You've been talking to yourself ever since I got here," Elisa went on. "What just happened? When I first got here you were asleep. Then I came back and I found you here."

"I was dreaming," I said vaguely. She looked confused. I looked dejectedly around my little Fade island. It was barren and empty.

"Was that you in my dream?" I asked.

"No – I've been here the whole time," she replied, confused.

"I thought so."

There was a long silence.

"Let's go home," Elisa said.

"I knew it was a dream," I said. "Even in the second dream level, where my mind made up a projection of you. I knew the whole time, but I didn't want to admit it. Because it was a good dream."

Elisa said nothing. She wordlessly put her arm around me in a comforting fashion.

"Hey, wait!" I said suddenly. The Fade was swimming before my eyes. It was like everything was fading away. "What's happening?"

"It's ok!" Elisa shouted, her voice growing fainter. "The same thing happened to the others! You'll be all right!"

Then, very suddenly, I was. Reality snapped back around me – or rather, reality as good as it got in the Fade. I was standing with the rest of the party, the five of us arrayed behind Elisa as she faced down the Sloth demon.

"You broke out of my worlds," the Sloth demon said slowly. "How unfortunate."

"That's right. We beat your mindgames, and now we're going to beat you," Elisa said with determination.

"But why are you doing this?" the demon asked. "I gave you happiness. You were without worry or care in my worlds. Why do you rebel against me?"

"Because they weren't real," Elisa replied.

"What is real and what is not is in the eye of the beholder," the demon went on. "If you go back, I promise I'll do better. I'll make you all happier."

Part of me wanted to accept the demon's offer. Part of me wanted to go back to the dream, go back to when life was good. But Elisa spoke up.

"You don't get it," Elisa declared. "You think you understand us, but you don't know the first thing about us. People don't _really_ want a perfect world. The bad in life, the pain and the heartache, are what drives us to find true happiness, happiness that fulfils us. What you offer is hollow, an empty shell of a life created by a monster incapable of experiencing true happiness."

Elisa drew her swords with a flourish. "You can forget your offer. I make my own happiness!"

And with that, I smiled.

The Sloth demon rose into the air, ready for our climactic showdown.

"I will make you regret those words," It said, and waved a hand. There was a sound like a thunderclap, and the Fade island was split in two. The two halves began to drift apart, so fast I barely had time to react. Elisa was on one side with the Sloth demon, and we were all on the other.

"Wha-?" I started to ask.

"It's his Fade realm," Wynne replied, "Here, he is master."

"Can Elisa take him alone?" I asked.

"Not alone!" Alistair yelled, and took a running jump. The jump was short, weighed down as he was by his arms and armour. He hit the ledge and scrabbled for purchase. The templar looked about to slip into the abyss when Elisa grabbed his arms. The muscular woman hauled up onto the island as the two halves drifted even further apart.

"Next time you do something suicidal, _warn_ me first," Elisa said jokingly.

"But that defeats the purpose of heroic bravery," Alistair replied.

"Heroic bravery, or stupidity?"

"Same thing," Alistair said with a smirk. "But enough of that – we have a demon to kill."

And with that, they went to work. It was amazing seeing them work together. The demon may have been powerful, but it was no match for their teamwork. Alistair always took the brunt if its assault, weathering strikes on his shield or diving in front of spells meant for Elisa. His templar resistance paid off in spades, and the demon seemed visibly weaker from his presence. Leliana, Morrigan and Wynne supported them from long-range. Wynne in particular used her magic to protect the pair as they battled.

The demon was stumbling now, weakened. Alistair charged forward, ramming into the demon with all his body weight behind his shield. It tripped and fell, dazed. Elisa leaped on it without a pause and rammed her swords into its head. It was dead.

She pulled her swords out and blew a bang of hair out of her eyes. "I guess his bark was worse than his bite."

A figure appeared, transparent at first but growing more solid until it was recognizable. It was Niall, the mage that Elisa would have met while traversing the Fade by herself.

"Niall," Elisa greeted him. "It's over. You can get back to the real world now."

"Unfortunately not," Niall said sadly. Yep, definitely Liam O'Brien- not the best time! "For you, this will have been an afternoon nap. I have been here much longer, been drained of my life by it. Once the demon's Fade realm collapses, I will die."

"Take the Litany of Adralla from... my body," he went on, wavering a little. "I should have known I couldn't save the Circle."

"You did, Niall," Elisa assured him. "We can save so many people, all thanks to your help."

"You know," Niall said with a dejected little laugh, "My mother once said I was destined for greatness. I suppose I disappointed her."

"I don't think you did," Elisa said. The Fade realm was beginning to collapse around us. The world was fracturing like a broken mirror and floating off, what little solid ground there was left fading away to rejoin the chaos of the raw Fade.

"Thank you, my friend," Niall said. He began to fade as well, his spirit no longer tied down like ours. Elisa and Alistair stood back-to-back on an ever-shrinking circle of land. The others and I huddled together on our part of the island. It was time to wake up.

* * *

And then we did. I woke up on the cold stone of the Circle tower, my body sore and aching from the forced nap in full armour. I staggered to my feet, stretching and yawning. All around me the others were doing the same. As the party got everything in order, Elisa caught my eye. I realized with a certain amount of dejection that we were going to have a chat back at camp. Possibly a Deep and Meaningful one. I was almost sad I couldn't give her a stat boost as a reward for being so friendly to me.

"Well, that's an experience I never want to repeat," Alistair commented. "But it didn't end up being too powerful, did it?"

"Not in a fight, no," Elisa replied. "That wasn't the point. If I hadn't realized it was a dream... we would still be there."

"What was your dream?" I asked.

"Later," Elisa brushed it off uncomfortably. "I think we all need a break after that. I'm sorry if I saw anything private."

"You do not need to coddle me," Sten commented.

"Hey, you're the one that forgot his duty to me for a dream," Elisa replied pointedly.

"Point taken," Sten acknowledged.

"You did not need to fear for me, either," Morrigan added. "That demon provided me with such a horrible impression of Flemeth I nearly stayed out of amusement."

"Enough dilly-dallying," Elisa decided. "We have a Circle to save."

We moved off, and came to the next important part of the tower. Templar Cullen was locked in a magical force field just by the stairs. Elisa carefully tested the glowing purple barrier, but her sword could not penetrate it. Cullen looked terrible. His hair was sweaty and bedraggled; his armour was dirty and dented. Most of all, his eyes were sunken and haunted, as if he hadn't been able to sleep for nightmares.

"Leave me," he hissed, praying. "You foul abominations keep trying to break me, but I will resist!"

"Templar, I'm real!" Elisa tried to get through to him.

"You will have to try harder than that!" Cullen spat. "You even tried visions of... _her._"

"Visions of who?" the Warden asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, demon," Cullen snapped. "You knew about her. That's why you sent visions of her. Every night, whispering to me, telling me I failed her..."

"Listen to me!" Elisa yelled, her voice tinged with desperation. "We're _real_, and we want to save the Circle! Tell us what's happening upstairs."

"The visions have never lasted this long..." the trapped templar said to himself, "Their master Uldred is upstairs. He took all the survivors. His blood mages, they're... you have to stop them."

"I have the Litany of Adralla," Elisa said, producing the scroll. "It will let me disrupt their power."

"Good, good. I do not know if Irving still lives, but please; kill them all," the templar pleaded. "No abomination must escape. This must never happen again."

"There are many who resisted," Wynne interjected. "We should avoid unnecessary deaths."

Elisa nodded stubbornly. "If you think I'm killing innocent mages, you have another thing coming."

"Naive, all of you," Cullen said sullenly. "They must be destroyed, it is the only way."

"Look... we can't break the barrier," the Warden explained. "We're going up there to fight Uldred now. We can talk about this _after_ he's dead."

As we ascended the stairs, we prepared ourselves. This was going to be a tough fight. Not only were there blood mages, they were probably abominations too. Add in a room full of mages to transform and a pissed-off Pride demon, we were in trouble. Elisa steeled herself and kicked the door in, striding confidently into the room with her swords at the ready.

Right as we saw a mage being turned. He was huddled on all fours, dirty and bruised from his treatment. Three abominations, their host bodies disgusting and twisted, surrounded the mage. A bald mage was crouched in front of the other, and I knew him to be Uldred.

"Do you accept the gift I have to offer?" he asked, holding the other mage's chin in his hand. The other mage nodded, desperate to escape the pain. The three abominations and Uldred responded by enveloping the mage in a storm of lightning. The mage's screams were sickening. I looked away before I could see the foul warping that would come from turning into an abomination, but I could hear it. There were wet tearing sounds as the demon shaped its host body. Soon it was over, and a fourth abomination stood up.

"Ah, we have guests!" Uldred announced suddenly, turning to meet us. Elisa glared at him.

"You have been a large thorn in my side, girl," the abomination went on. "Killing all of my brothers and sisters. It has made Irving quite distressed, hasn't it?"

We turned to look. All around the edge of the circular room were bound mages. Irving was sitting closer than the others, and the elderly mage looked almost at death's door.

"Stop... him..." Irving gasped. "Abomination..."

"How duplicitous of you Irving, making me think you were under my control," Uldred said casually. "We shall soon fix that."

"I've heard enough!" Elisa cut him off. Her voice echoed around the chamber. "I'm here to stop what you've been doing to these people."

"I have been realizing their full potential," Uldred replied. "A mage is simply a larval form for something _greater_. The Chantry mock us, treat us like dangerous animals! I will show them."

He eyed Elisa appraisingly. "Yes. Not a mage, but you would make a fine vessel."

"So would you. I think I'll skin you and turn you into a pair of scabbards," the Warden shot back. There was a pause. "I don't know where that came from."

There was another pause. This one was longer, heavier, more sinister. Uldred must have been staring at something, because the party turned to see what it was. That something was me. They took a step back reflexively, leaving me alone under the full force of Uldred's stare.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" he asked. I looked around, desperate for some sort of explaination.

"Uldred-" I began.

"I am not Uldred! I am more!" the mad mage cut me off. "Surely you know?"

The chamber was silent again as Uldred studied my look of confusion. Confusion seeped into his face as well.

"How can you...?" he said to himself. He looked back at me. "I see now. I knew you had grown weak, but _this_? This is beneath you."

"What are you _talking_ about?" I demanded, my voice cracking.

"You are dormant now, true," Uldred, speaking in my direction but not talking to _me_, "But I can awaken you."

He raised his hands. Then the pain began.

The wound in my right hand opened again. Blood seeped from the hole in my palm, spurting with more force than was natural. I clutched my wrist, fear blossoming inside me at the sight of the red jets. The pain grew, far more than any physical wound.

"What's happening to me?" I yelled. I stumbled forward inexorably, drawn by something my conscious mind couldn't fathom. I was moving toward Uldred.

"Get away from him!" Elisa yelled, charging. Uldred smirked, and flicked his hand. My right arm followed the gesture unbidden. Something welled up deep within me, something I'd never experienced before in my life. Power.

It radiated from my hand in a great wave, manifesting as a hurricane-force wind. It was nearly visible in its ferocity, and it struck Elisa like a truck. She was lifted bodily into the air and slammed against the opposite wall. She crumpled to the ground, and something fell out of her pocket.

Uldred gestured again, and I followed. More wind, in a wide arc this time. It was weaker than the gust that had disabled Elisa, but it was still powerful enough to send the party sliding back against the wall.

"What are you doing to me?" I shouted desperately, the pain nearly unbearable. "Let me go!"

Uldred ignored me. He held his hand over my head.

Then the true pain began.

I crumpled to the floor instantly. There was the dull impact of the stone, but it was nothing compared to the pain. I was burning and freezing at the same time, as if every individual nerve in my body was being tortured individually. Even my skin felt like an ill-fitting suit, stretched tight over my thrashing body. Blood was still flowing from my pierced palm. I was screaming. It was the only sound I could make. As I writhed, power began to spill out of me, unfettered.

Magic ran rampant. Flames spewed out, rolling across the floor with enough heat to crack the flagstones. Frost and ice rimed the flagstones beneath me, tearing at my skin with their supernatural cold. A bolt of lightning arced from my hand, striking the ceiling with the force of a bomb. Huge chunks of rubble rained down, but any that drew near to Uldred or I rebounded off an invisible force field. Amidst all this was the ever-present wind. It beat down everyone in the room, pinning them to the floor or walls. Finally, the room could take it no more. The ceiling was simply lifted from its housing, the stones ripping apart and scattering into the night air. Almost half of the wall collapsed outwards and toppled, leaving the Harrowing chamber exposed to the air.

The only one who remained upright was Uldred.

"Yes, that's it," he said triumphantly. "Embrace your true power. Reawaken!"

That was when the sword hit him in the chest. Uldred looked down at it, surprised. With the last shred of my rational mind that remained, I saw the Cousland family crest embossed on the pommel. It was the Cousland family sword. Uldred turned to look at who had thrown it.

It was Elisa. Her face was set into a grimace, battered raw by the wind. She was hunched over, somehow resisting the gale that faced her. She took a laborious step, then another. In her left hand she held her short sword. In her right was a scroll. She fixed Uldred with a triumphant smirk, and unrolled it.

It was the Litany of Adralla. Elisa began to read from it aloud. Her voice was strong and sure. It carried over the wind. The words pierced through the pain and right into my mind. I felt something lift off me, and Uldred's control was broken. I lay on the ground, unable to move. The storm of magic subsided, leaving me too exhausted to move.

"It's over, Uldred," Elisa said, waiting for Uldred to fall over.

"No," I wheezed. "Demon... Pride..."

The triumph in Elisa's face faded away almost instantly. Uldred chuckled. He began to grow, his robes ripping as he did. His flesh distorted, giving way to chitinous armour and spines. Elisa backed away from the abomination, and I saw fear in her face for the first time.

"You never stood a chance," the Pride demon declared. It was at least twice as tall as Elisa. Its hands were huge, deadly claws, its skin impenetrable armour. Its monstrous head was topped with a pair of massive horns. It was death.

That was when the pain started again. I screamed again. There was something inside my right arm. There was a huge pressure in my arm, as if the muscle inside was attempting to burst of the flesh. To my horror, that was almost what it did. With a sickening ripping noise, three bloody smiles opened in my forearm. The marks quickly turned black, and hideous-looking spines grew from them.

"HELP ME!" I pleaded, writhing in agony. The Pride demon stepped over me.

Elisa spoke the Litany of Adralla again. The Pride demon recoiled slightly, and my pain lessened. My arm seemed to have stopped mutating, but I still couldn't move.

"Fly, you fools!" Irving gasped. "Swords are no more use here!"

Alistair and Sten charged, each roaring their battle cries. The Pride demon made no move to stop them. Alistair's sword simply rebounded off the demon's leg plates, leaving them unmarked. Sten's greatsword struck with bone-shattering force, but left only a dent. A retaliatory kick sent Sten skidding across the floor. The demon ducked down to punch Alistair, but he dodged to the side just in time.

Leliana loosed three arrows, so fast they struck mere seconds behind each other. The first two deflected off its armour, but the third struck the demon in the eye. It roared in pain and charged at Leliana. The Orlesian bard only just managed to dive out of the way, but the demon managed to knock down an even greater section of the wall. The night wind howled around the unprotected combatants.

A lightning bolt seared through the demon's back armour. It turned to see Morrigan, her staff still pointed at it.

"Magic can still harm you, creature," she said. With that, she and Wynne hurled fireballs almost in unsion. The twin spells burst in the creature's chest, sending it stumbling back. More arrows and sword strikes rebounded off its armour, but the demon remained invulnerable.

"What do we do? That thing can just shrug off everything we throw at it!" Alistair asked desperately, huddled behind his shield. The demon attempted to turn more mages into abominations, but Elisa read from the Litany again and broke his control. She raced to my side and dropped to her knees next to me.

"Are you ok?"

"I... I think so," I said weakly. I tried not to look at my bloody and misshapen arm, but it burned and throbbed continuously.

"Good, because I have an idea," she said, staring at where her sword was still embedded in the demon, "I need to you summon that wind again."

"I-I can't!" I pleaded. "He did something to me-"

"Ven, I _need_ you right now!" Elisa said with total conviction. "You can do it."

I rolled over. The demon was attempting to pin down Morrigan and Wynne. The apostate was evading the demon more easily, but Wynne had a few too many near-misses. Morrigan gathered her power and cast a force field around the demon. It quickly broke through, but it bought enough time for the mages to escape. The demon turned, and I saw it was standing near the ledge.

"Now!" Elisa yelled. I flung out my arm, and prayed desperately it would work.

A solid spiral of wind burst from my hand, straight into the Pride demon's chest. It stumbled back, but began to step forward.

"More power!" the Warden urged. "Everyone, knock it back!"

Leliana spent the last of her arrows, finding the scant few chinks in the demon's armour. Sten and Alistair hacked madly at its legs, succeeding in driving it back another step or two before being knocked aside. Elisa charged at the demon and took a massive running leap. She caught hold of the hilt of her sword, still buried in its chest. She swung herself up onto it and drove it as deep as she could, burying the enchanted sword up to the hilt. The Warden let go just before the demon swiped at her, missing her by inches. The demon staggered back, only two steps from the edge. It raised its foot to crush the life out of Elisa.

"Full-power lighting into the sword! Now!" Elisa roared. Wynne and Morrigan obliged. I felt my wind pulse with a sudden burst of power as twin bolts of bright lightning converged into one and blasted into the sword. The demon hung in the air for a split-second, on one leg, with a sword bursting at the seams with magical energy thrust through its chest.

The sword exploded. It blew a crater in the demon's chest large enough to fit through. Shards of the sword were still visible embedded in the bloody wound. The demon slowly but surely toppled head-over-heels, and over the edge. It just managed to catch the ledge with one hand. As Elisa stood up, I could see it attempting to pull itself up.

"That was my favourite sword," Elisa said as she approached the demon.

"To think that a pathetic _human_ could have defeated me," the demon spat. Elisa smiled.

"I have one thing to say to you; something I heard a friend say," she said triumphantly.

"This is impossible. This is madness!" the demon roared. It was slipping, holding on by two taloned fingers.

"_**THIS. IS. FERELDEN!**_" Elisa roared back, equally loud, and kicked the demon in the face. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. The demon plummeted, falling God-knows-how-far down the Circle tower was tall. A few moments later there was an earth-shaking _crash_ as the demon splattered on the ground. Elisa sighed with relief. She turned back to us, and she was silhouetted by the rising sun. She'd kept her promise.

The pain began again. I yelled and clutched my arm as the pressure built up again. I felt faint. Just as I felt myself slip from consciousness, I thought I heard someone call out to me.


	8. Chapter 7: Corrupted

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; our hero escaped the Fade and helped the Warden save the Circle. However, he appears to have a dark presence inside him that even now threatens to take him over._

_By the way, stay tuned for more Life on Thedas – there'll be a Christmas special chapter up by the end of Christmas day. Happy holidays to everyone!

* * *

_

_I am falling. That is the only sensation I feel, the air rushing around me as I plummet. My eyes open. The sky is orange, clouds tinted by the last sunset rays. I don't know if I'm falling up or down. All I know is that I am falling headfirst. I look up, and I see the sky rush up to meet me. _

_I break through, and I fall into water. The ocean is dark, but I barely register the biting cold. I fall further, deeper into the ocean's black depths. Bubbles are streaming off me, but I don't feel the need to breathe. I begin to wonder when I will stop falling. _

_I feel myself slow. I spin slowly, and softly touch solid ground feet-first. I don't feel like I'm underwater anymore. The world is pitch-black. There is no light anywhere. I take a hesitant step forward. _

_Light explodes from beneath my feet, and I reel back, hands covering my eyes. I suddenly hear the fluttering of dozens of wings. I lower my hands, and I see a huge flock of doves taking flight from under my feet. There is light under my feet, which expands into a huge circular platform. I look up to watch the last of the doves fly away. _

_I turn around. There is a door, standing alone at one edge of the platform. It is a huge black door, a menacing metal construction. It seems to glow with some inner energy, and a foreboding light is visible from the crack. It is bound securely, massive chains as thick as my arm wrapping around it, fixed with thick steel padlocks. As I watch, it seems to pulse slightly, like a heartbeat. Without thinking I start towards it, raising my hand._

No.

_I stop. That voice... it seemed so familiar. I look around_

Do you know where you are?

_I shake my head. In my dreamlike state I can barely think._

This is the Fade. You are dreaming. But this is a special dream. Do you remember the last time you went to the Fade?

_I nod._

You went to the second level of the Fade. This is even deeper. It is the very core of your mind.

_I look back at the door. The voice takes this as a question._

That is a powerful entity. It is far stronger than you – it would not be chained if you did not have help.

_I begin to wonder what the voice meant._ _I hear footsteps behind me, and I turn. It's Elisa, or at least the Elisa from my dreams. She is in her armour this time, and carries both her swords. Behind her, I see others appear. Soon the whole party is arrayed on the platform in front of me._

They are not real. They are, as you described them, projections. But they will fight to protect you all the same.

_And with that, I begin to rise. I see the party arrange themselves in front of the door. I also see the platform in its full glory, which I see now, is one massive stained-glass mural. It depicts me, apparently floating in space, my eyes closed in a dreamless sleep. This image of me takes up half the mural – the other is covered by darkness, with tendrils reaching across to my side of the mural. The significance of this is lost on me as, like all other times, memories of the dream fade to nothing as I wake up.

* * *

_

I woke up in darkness and in pain. I groaned instantly, my arm aching even more forcefully. I recalled the events of last night with nausea in the pit of my stomach. I gingerly felt for my arm. Was it still the bloody, mutated mess it had been. I feel my hand collide with metal. I ran my hand down my arm, and even in the pitch-black I realized my arm was covered in armour. It wasn't any regular armour – it covered every inch of exposed skin on my right arm, even my fingers. It ended sharply at my shoulder in a rounded pauldron. It was heavy and bulky, and with a renewed sense of horror I realized it was only hiding my wounds and the demonic spines that had grown from my arm.

I heard the scrape of metal on metal, and a door opened. Light spilled into the room, which I realized was a dungeon cell. A menacing figure strode through the door, framed by a single flickering torch. He reached out and grabbed my arm roughly, hauling me to my feet and dragging me towards the door. I struggled and shouted questions, but he ignored me. I felt a sickly weakness in the pit of my stomach, and when we re-entered the torchlight I knew why. He was a templar.

He was joined by another templar, who grabbed my armoured arm. They marched me down a close stone corridor, and up a flight of steps.

"Where are you taking me!" I yelled. A gauntleted fist slammed into my stomach, and I almost vomited my lungs. I gasped for breath.

"Silence maleficar scum," the templar who'd hit me snarled. _Maleficar._ I tried to protest, put up some sort of a struggle, but between that punch and the weakening aura these templars seemed to project I was left helpless. We went through a door at the top of the steps, and walked out into a familiar area. I was still at the Circle of Magi.

I heard raised voices. The templars dragged me down another hallway and through the great iron door the party and I had passed through what seemed like a week ago. We emerged in the foyer, where Elisa, Wynne, Irving, Cullen and Greagoir seemed to be having a five-way argument.

"You cannot take any risks!" Cullen was arguing, "There may still be blood mages left, lying in wait!"

"But what you are trying to justify is the slaughter of wholly innocent mages!" Wynne shot back.

Cullen noticed my arrival, "Here! One of the maleficar is here now!"

"He has nothing to do with this!" Elisa interjected, "He was travelling with me – he had nothing to do with the uprising!"

"So you admit he was an apostate that was hiding his powers?" Cullen shot back accusingly.

"Warden, you cannot deny this boy is an abomination," Greagoir told Elisa. "He was in the midst of turning into one when you brought him here. It is only by sheer luck the surviving Tranquil were able to craft that enchanted armour to keep the demon at bay."

"It would have been so much easier if we had just executed him," Cullen said bitterly. Elisa stepped close, almost nose-to-nose with him.

"Go on. Threaten one of my men again. I _dare_ you," the Warden said venomously. Cullen took a step back.

"Enough!" Greagoir snapped, silencing the group. "Warden, the two incidents are unconnected. The tower is safely under control and Irving is alive. The Right of Annulment is no longer necessary."

Cullen muttered under his breath, furious.

"Your companion is another matter," the senior templar went on. "Not only is he an apostate, but one powerful enough to cause serious damage to the tower and the host of an equally powerful demon."

"But-"

"Chantry law is clear," Greagoir cut her off. "The boy is a maleficar. As the tower no longer has the facilities to perform the Rite of Tranquility, he will be escorted to Aeonar-"

I didn't hear the rest. I went mad.

"HELP ME!" I screamed as the two templars began to drag me away. "PLEASE, ELISA! HELP!"

I struggled and fought. My feet dug into the floor and I wrenched against my templar captors. One long, wordless cry of terror was coming from my mouth.

"You will be escorted to Aeonar!" Greagoir shouted over my pleas, "There you will live out the rest of your days in penance for your crimes!"

"I didn't do anything!" I yelled, trying to make eye contact with Elisa. "Please, I didn't know! I DIDN'T KNOW!"

"Take him away!" Greagoir shouted over the top of me. "Get him out of my sight!"

Elisa said something, but I couldn't hear her over the noise. She wasn't looking at me.

"PLEASE!" I shouted in terror again. I was crying now, fearful tears streaming down my face. So much had happened in so little time. My life was slipping away from me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. One of the templars drew back his fist to punch me again.

"**I INVOKE THE RIGHT OF CONSCRIPTION!**" Elisa thundered. Everything went very silent. Everyone looked at her.

"Knight-Commander Greagoir, from this point forth Ventus is now my responsibility," she went on, her tone now so calm that it offered no protest. "He will be released from Chantry custody forever, and he will go through the Joining ritual as soon as the facilities are available."

Just about everyone in the room was stunned, me especially. Did Elisa just make me a Grey Warden?

"This is preposterous!" Greagoir protested. "You are asking for me to release an apostate from-"

"I've already got an apostate," Elisa cut him off, wearing a mocking smile "And there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"She is within her rights, Greagoir," Irving mentioned as the templar wound up for another exclamation. "Grey Wardens may recruit whomever they see fit if they believe it will help stop a Blight."

Greagoir gaped like a fish. Morrigan looked amused by this turn of events, but then she stared at me with some odd look in her eye. I couldn't read it.

"Very well," Greagoir said finally in a defeated tone. The templars hurled me to the floor, and I collapsed face-first across the flagstones. I was sobbing in relief now, grateful to the Warden in a way I could barely express.

"But remember that looks are deceiving," Greagoir went on. "That boy is still an abomination, even with that armour sealing the demon. One day soon, he _will_ turn."

"I'll deal with it," Elisa said.

I crawled to my feet. The rest of the party were giving me odd looks, and I burned under their stares. I shuffled over to a corner of the room and waited for this horrible situation to be over. From what I could gather, Irving had pledged to come to Redcliffe with some mages and lyrium. However, it would take him some time to get organized, so Elisa was going to meet them there. We managed to leave without straining relations with the templars any further.

Outside we saw the corpse of the Pride demon we'd killed last night. Its body was sprawled over the rocky shores of the island, its thick armour cracked by the force of hitting those rocks from the top of the tower. It was nearly unrecognizable from all the blood, but what was recognizable was the hole in its chest from Elisa's sword blowing up. The Warden walked over, almost casually, and knelt down. She searched the ground, and came up with a few pieces. She held the broken-off pommel in her hand and stared at it, wiping blood off the Cousland family crest with her thumb.

"Are you ok?" Alistair asked. He stood next to Elisa, looking concerned.

"This was my family's sword," Elisa said quietly. "I found it in the treasure vault when... when..."

There was an odd noise. Elisa raised another hand to her face. Wait! Was Elisa... crying? I felt uncomfortable. Elisa had always been this indomitable powerhouse to me. Seeing her like this, it was like she'd taken her armour off. This wasn't Elisa the Grey Warden – it was Elisa Cousland, orphan.

"It's... it's all I have to remember them by," Elisa went on, her voice choked by her tears. Alistair crouched down and put an arm around her.

"Look, if we find all the pieces I'm sure we could get it reforged," Alistair said encouragingly. I could see in his face how worried he was about her. He cared about her. Suddenly, Elisa stood up. Her quiet crying was gone. She clenched her fists to hard her gauntlets made a metal scraping sound. She was staring into the distance.

"No. It's just a sword. We can buy another one," she said finally. She led us to the boats, where we found Barkspawn waiting. Sten, Morrigan and Leliana crowded in with the Mabari while I sat in with Alistair and Elisa. As we crossed the lake Alistair occasionally threw loaded looks at me, but mostly he just looked at Elisa.

"But..." Elisa said suddenly. "Thank you Alistair. That was a nice thought." She smile, and Alistair flashed a big goofy grin. It was enough to make me smile, despite everything.

The day's walk, on the other hand, was excruciating. Everyone kept looking at me with suspicion, like I would turn into an abomination any second. Sten in particular looked at me like I was an ugly stain on the road. I walked as far back in the party as I could, away from everyone's suspicious eyes. All, that is, except Morrigan. She wasn't fazed by my condition, and walked beside me casually. I would have asked her, but felt too miserable to speak.

When we finally made camp, it was almost a relief. I decided to set my tent up alone, as far from the others as possible. Halfway through I gave up, the silent treatment too much for me to bear. I walked over to talk to the party – Alistair first. He was busy tugging his tent into shape.

"Alistair, can we talk?" I asked.

"What is there to discuss?" he asked, still concentrating on his tent.

"Me," I said quietly.

"What, the fact that you're an abomination that almost blew up the Circle tower and nearly killed us? No!" Alistair replied sarcastically. "Nothing noteworthy there."

He forgot his tent and turned to face me. "And Elisa made you a _Grey Warden_. What was she _thinking_? How can she possibly think anyone would accept an abomination in the Grey Wardens? I mean, I'm trained to _hunt _people like you."

"Don't worry, there's still plenty of time for me to get killed before I go through the Joining," I said, loaded with more venom than I'd intended.

"Look... that's not what I... what I meant was..." Alistair struggled for words. "Just... go away. I don't have anything to say to you."

I backed away. Alistair hated me. I walked off dejectedly. I decided to find Leliana considering she'd always been nicest to me. I found the Orlesian bard sitting by her tent. She started when she saw me coming and stood up.

"Ven!" she said.

"Leliana... can we talk?" I asked.

"Um... yes, of course," Leliana replied. But her smile was forced, her tone uncertain, and she took a step away from me. I took a step forwards, held out a hand to give some sort of explanation. She flinched.

She was afraid of me.

"It's ok, I get it," I said. I left. Leliana didn't try to stop me. I decided to walk over to the campfire, and walked past Elisa's tent. Barkspawn was sitting outside, contented. I decided that at least the dog should still like me. I approached to pat him, but he sat bolt upright and growled. Getting closer only intensified the growl, and Barkspawn was staring unblinkingly at my right arm. I left.

I heard raised voices. It was Elisa and Sten. I couldn't hear their argument, but it was getting pretty heated.

"That's my final word, Sten!" Elisa said finally. "No argument!"

Sten must have left, because he stomped into my field of view seconds later. He saw me and made a beeline for me. He stopped just short of bowling me over, standing over me with anger in his eyes.

"The Warden has forbidden me from doing anything to you," he rumbled. "She does not understand mages like I do – I know how dangerous your kind is."

He bent down so we were at eye-level. "If you do anything – show any sign you are about to lose control, and I will see to it that you lose your head. Are we clear?"

I nodded numbly.

"Good." Sten left. Everyone else had taken their armour off and were now gathering around the fire. I sat down, hoping at least I could have a meal with the others like the last three weeks we'd spent together. The others sat far from me on the opposite side of the fire. Sten was glaring daggers at me. Alistair seemed to have worn his sword to dinner, and he was gripping his plate rather tighter than usual. Leliana kept glancing furtively at me, as if I might lash out and blow them all into the sky with a hurricane like I'd summoned yesterday.

Even Elisa was giving me sideways glances. Wynne's expression was harder to read, but I could see she was guarded around me. I had enough. I stood and hurled my plate over the fireplace. It bounced off the dirt and rolled away. I turned and stomped away. Wynne stood up, as if to stop me.

"Ventus, aren't you-" Wynne started.

"I'm not hungry," I snapped. I left her and finished pitching my tent. I crawled inside and lay down on my bedroll, the templar armour pressing uncomfortably against my body. The full enormity of what had happened to me finally crashed down, and I cried again. I really was alone now.

The next five days of travel were mostly uneventful. Mostly the party refused to talk to me, but for some reason whenever Wynne tried I pushed her away. I know I was being childish, but at that point I didn't care anymore. In other news, with the loss of her sword Elisa was forced to go 'Highlander: The Source' and use a pair of short swords instead. To her credit she showed no sign of the minor breakdown she'd had at the tower.

We finally reached Redcliffe again, and stood for a moment on the cliff overlooking the village. At least, overlooking the smoking ruin of the village. Well, actually the rubble and charred wood had been cleared away, and a makeshift village of temporary homes and tents had sprung up. I felt a pang of shame looking at what I had done.

"Um... Elisa..." Alistair said. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Something about my father," he went on. "You see, I'm a bastard. And... my father was King Maric."

There was a pause. Alistair seemed sheepish, and Elisa was just surprised.

"So you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard?" she asked. Alistair laughed.

"I guess I should use that line more often. But I know you're wondering why I didn't tell you. The truth is... I kind of liked you not knowing," Alistair explained. "Everyone always used to coddle me because of it. Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. It's ok, though – there's not much chance of me being heir to the throne."

Alistair took a deep breath. "So there. That's it. Apart from my unholy obsession with cheese and a minor fixation with my hair, that's all there is to me."

"Don't worry, Alistair," Elisa smiled, "I don't think any differently of you."

"Well, I, uh, thank you," Alistair replied.

"... my prince."

"Oh Maker."

Elisa turned the party loose until the mages arrived from the Circle. Most went down to what remained of Redcliffe village, but I stayed away. I didn't want to risk being recognized. Maybe I was being angsty or mopey, but I just wanted to be alone. I sat at the top of the cliff, watching the party go about their business below. I noticed someone climbing the hill towards me, and they were carrying something. When he got closer, I realized he was the boy Elisa and I had found hiding in a cupboard almost two weeks ago. He was carrying a sheathed sword.

"Are you Ventus?" he asked. I nodded.

"The Warden gave me the sword back," he explained. He unsheathed the sword, which I saw was the Green Blade. It was an elf-style weapon, a curved single-edge blade.

"She decided the sovereign she gave us wasn't enough," the boy went on. "But Kaitlyn doesn't know I have this. So I want to give it to you."

He handed me the sword. I took it, confused.

"Why give it to _me_?" I asked.

"I remember you from the attack. You're not much older than me, but you're a lot braver," he explained. I laughed bitterly, and the boy seemed confused.

"I'm the worst guy to give this to. Take it back," I held out the sword. He didn't take it.

"It'll go to waste with us," he said. "You should take it. It'll be useful."

I looked at the sword again. I knew it was enchanted, but I didn't remember what it did. It felt much lighter than my other sword. I took the scabbard from him and sheathed the weapon.

"Thanks."

The mages arrived early morning the next day in a carriage. The party and I were waiting at Redcliffe castle to meet them. Apparently the demon in Connor hadn't done anything since we left, maybe because of Malcolm and Jowan watching over it. I had given Elisa my old sword, and she didn't question how I'd gotten the Green Blade back. Anyway, the mages and the party gathered in the main hall. A group of templars had come with the mages, and they arrayed themselves around the perimeter of the room. Bann Teagan and Isolde stood by, worried.

"Now we can proceed with the ritual," Irving told Elisa. "We will be able to send one and _only_ one mage into the Fade. We do not have enough lyrium for a second attempt. We also have templars standing by... in case anything goes wrong. Who should go into the Fade?"

Elisa rubbed her chin thoughtfully. She was obviously considering her choices. Obviously Irving was a good choice, being the most powerful mage here. He'd also be experienced with the Fade. Wynne was another good one I suppose, being another powerful mage. I remember Jowan being a pretty bad choice, but he'd still have a chance to redeem himself-

"Ventus."

"WHAT!" exclaimed most of the people in the room, including me.

"I said; Ventus is going into the Fade," Elisa repeated.

"Are you insane?" Alistair exclaimed. "Not only is he already an abomination, he can't use his powers!"

He glanced at me. "No offense."

"No, no, I'm with you," I agreed. "I can't use my powers – how do I beat a demon in the Fade?"

"It recognized you last time," Elisa pointed out. Oh yeah – I'd forgotten about that. "When you go in, just act like you've been possessed. Hopefully it'll let its guard down."

"And if I'm not convincing?"

"Stab it until it dies."

"Excellent advice."

"I don't think you understand," Irving interjected. "We only have enough lyrium for _one _attempt. Ventus isn't powerful enough to do this."

Elisa wouldn't hear any argument. Irving gave up. As the mages prepared the ritual, Elisa tried to prepare me. She checked and double-checked my armour, and then she produced a leather belt. There was a sheath sown to it parallel to the belt. The Warden buckled it around my torso and sheathed her elven shortsword into it – what was it called. A dar'misu? Anyway, the belt went from my right shoulder to my left hip, and the hilt of the sword pointed at my left hip.

"What's this for?"

"Backup."

"But seriously. Why send me?" I asked. Elisa whispered conspiratorially into my ear.

"The others might stop distrusting you if you save Connor."

The ritual was prepared. The mages were standing in a circle, and in the centre was a small dish of lyrium. Just looking at the glowing blue mineral made me feel sick. Elisa gave me a hard shove and I stumbled forward towards it. There was a flash of light and I collapsed, falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

I woke up. I was in the Fade all right. The world around me was blurred and indistinct. Everything was vaguely brown. I sighed and walked off. I was surrounded by indistinct phantoms, and I heard Arl Eamon's voice. He was lost in the Fade, calling out for someone to help. I tried to remember what I was supposed to do. I passed through a few Fade portals, but for some reason nothing attacked me.

I found Connor. He was standing on a circular platform overlooking the rest of the Fade realm.

"Are you Connor or the demon?" I asked.

"She doesn't want me talking to you," Connor stammered. "She keeps trying to take over. She watches me."

I felt horrible about what I was about to do. "Too bad for you I'm a demon as well. I want to talk to her."

Connor's face twisted in terror, and I felt a pang of regret. Connor doubled over, crying out in pain. There was a flash, and in his place stood the Desire demon that possessed him. She regarded me with interest, hands idly rubbing over her legs and chest. I felt massively uncomfortable and tried to look her in the eyes. Her efforts to seduce me were certainly not going to work – that creepy bald head and those horns saw to that.

"So we meet again," she observed. "And this time you are aware that a demon lies within you as well?"

"Was it that obvious?" I asked.

"I was acquainted with her," the demon said conversationally. "She is very powerful. More powerful than I, in fact."

"What do you know about... 'her'?" I asked.

"Yes, you are the host to a demon of Desire," she caught on to my unasked question. "I knew her well. I was one of her servants, in fact. She commanded a large realm of the Fade at her peak. But recently it was invaded by one of the 'virtuous' spirits. Somehow this spirit was powerful enough to overthrow her."

"Then what happened?"

"I left her realm the moment the spirit broke through," the Desire demon remarked. "I had no great loyalty to her. All I know is that she was weakened somehow, and she must have sought refuge from death within you. She would certainly not voluntarily choose a mage such as you – you are possibly the weakest mage I have ever seen."

"Fantastic – I'm not here to listen to you insult me," I shot back.

"In any case, her powers will return fully soon – and when they do, they will be far greater than anything mere templar craft can hold back. She will erase you, rend your soul apart and command your body like it was her own," the Desire demon said with some degree of pleasure. "Then you will be forced to watch as she destroys your friends one by one."

"That isn't why I came here," I said, trying to act a lot tougher than I felt. Her words had shaken me, and I almost lost my resolve. "I want you to leave Connor alone."

"And why would I wish to do that?" the demon asked. She attempted a seductive hip-waggle, but I just felt like throwing up. "Do you plan to face me in my own realm, at my most powerful?"

"No. I want to make a deal."

The demon seemed slightly surprised. "After you have already dealt with a demon?"

"I don't know where your master came from or what she wants, but that's beside the point. This is about Connor."

The demon smirked. "The terms of your deal?"

"You leave Connor alone for twenty years. Then you have him. In return..." I thought for a moment. "I want to learn blood magic."

The Desire demon chuckled. "You seemed like just another self-righteous hero, but now I see the naked ambition in your eyes. You desire power, just like everyone else."

"Well? Is it a deal?" I pressed. She strolled over to me, her hips swinging back and forth like a supermodel's. I cringed mentally. I need an adult! The demon got far too close to me for comfort, almost nose-to-nose. I realized she smelled fantastic. It was like a perfu- wait a second. Beautiful, seductive, great-smelling but very strong and fast? Oh God, she's a Twilight vampire! Thank you, now I will never see a Desire demon as remotely attractive ever again.

The demon grasped my right arm and lifted it up. Her hands trailed over the shining metal, tracing signs against it. Suddenly pain burst fresh in my arm, and I collapsed to my knees. I hissed in pain as I felt something in my arm shift. Memories flooded into me, knowledge that I didn't know existed. I understood blood magic now. I had the power.

"What did you do to me?" I demanded.

"A gesture of goodwill," the demon replied slightly mockingly. "Your accursed templar armour has been weakened. Your powers are now at your command. But at what price, I wonder?"

I could feel the Fade realm begin to collapse. The demon was going to wake me up and leave. She knelt down in front of me, lifting my chin up and staring into my eyes.

"Any last words before our deal is sealed?" She asked.

"Just two; surprise, bitch."

_Shlurk_. The Desire demon gurgled, blood oozing from the corners of her mouth. Elisa's dar'misu was now buried up to the hilt in her neck. The demon stumbled backwards, grasping weakly at the hilt. I turned. Elisa was standing behind me. No, not Elisa – the projection of her. I could tell because she was in modern clothes.

"I had it under control!" I exclaimed.

"I'd hate to see out of control," she shot back. "You were about to make a deal with her."

"I was just about to stab her too!" I argued. "You just came in and stole my kill!"

"Oh shut up," the Elisa projection dismissed me, "You're about to wake up."

* * *

And then I did. I awoke on the floor of the Redcliffe castle main hall. I groaned and stretched.

"Well? Did it work?" Elisa asked.

"You should know, you were there," I muttered to myself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Yes, by the way. Connor is safe – the demon's dead," I said. Teagan and Isolde let out cries of relief and raced upstairs to find Connor. I stood up and cracked my back. Elisa seemed to be staring at me.

"What?"

"Your arm..." she said. I looked down. The templar armour had changed. The first thing I noticed was that the metal was dark gray, almost black. It still completely encased my arm, but it had changed to be almost unnaturally form-fitting. I moved my arm experimentally, and found I had an almost perfect range of movement. I also noticed that the gauntlet had changed, each finger now tipped in a wicked claw. I tested them – yep, they were sharp. The pauldron had also changed, now an almost triangular piece of metal with a raised plate in the centre.

"She... did something to my armour," I explained. "I think she tried to let the demon out."

"But it didn't work, right?" She asked. The templars were starting to look very suspicious.

"Nononono, I'm fine!" I reassured everyone. The templars seemed to calm down. The party filed upstairs to check on Connor. He was just fine, but he didn't seem to remember anything from when he was possessed. Arl Eamon was still unconscious, though, and Teagan told Elisa about the Sacred Ashes of Andraste. I hoped Elisa would save that until last – I don't relish the thought of fighting a dragon.

"New plan, people," Elisa announced. "We're going to find Brother Genetivi – he knows where to find the Sacred Ashes."

"But what about the other treaties?" Alistair asked.

"Turns out he lives where I was planning to go anyway. We need to rest and regroup, we need supplies and we need some idea of what's going on politically. Trust me – Denerim's the place to be in the Feastday season," Elisa replied.

"Feastday? I can't believe I forgot!" Alistair exclaimed. Realization dawned on me. Feastday was the Thedas' bizarro-Christmas. So we were going to have a Christmas special. Fantastic.


	9. Chapter 8: Feastday Shenanigans

_A/N: First of all; this is actually canon. Second of all, this is a short chapter - any questions raised will probably be answered in the next chapter. Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everybody who reads Life on Thedas!

* * *

_

The first thing I learned about Feastday was that it apparently took place in summer, just like back home in Australia. Speaking of which, I guess it's a good thing Australian accents sound like British ones so I didn't sound too out-of-place in Ferelden. But that's beside the point. It turned out that the holiday basically was Christmas, complete with a Santa Claus and everything. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that we wouldn't make it to Denerim in time for Feastday. After three weeks of travel we decided to have our Feastday at the biggest town we could find near the Brecilian Forest.

Oh, and I wasn't sure if me saving Connor had improved the party's approval of me much. Sten still refused to remain in my presence, perhaps for fear of losing control and decapitating me. Leliana was still guarded around me, and Alistair still avoided me. Wynne seemed to have given up trying to talk to me as well. At least I could eat at the campfire now without being lynched.

But there was a silver lining. As I became more of a loner I found myself spending more time with Morrigan. I still had to be careful what I said around her, true, but we seemed almost friendly. It was nice truth be told.

"Please do not tell me you are as enamoured with this pointless holiday as our great leader?" Morrigan asked me a few days before Feastday. We were sitting by her own campfire, removed from the main camp.

"I gather you're not a fan," I said.

"Tis quite sickening, to be frank," she said. "Sometimes I am glad Flemeth raised me without such frivolities."

"Were you _ever_ happy growing up?" I asked.

"Happiness is a fleeting thing," the witch said bitterly. "It blinds you to the true importance of life. I learned that the hard way."

"What happened?"

Morrigan sighed, but showed no other sign she was tired of my questions. "I was young. I still had much to learn of my powers. I left the Wilds one night to explore a nearby town, and a dignitary was passing through. I crept into her carriage while she was away and stole a mirror."

Morrigan's eyes misted as she lost herself in the memory. "It was a beautiful mirror. It enraptured me so, I was almost discovered."

"Flemeth... didn't take kindly, did she?" I asked.

"She was furious," the apostate explained. "She smashed the mirror on the ground and forbade me from leaving the Wilds for a long time. She was right, of course. I was foolish to have risked discovery over so trivial a thing."

"Still," I said carefully. "That's a harsh lesson to teach a child."

"'Harsh lessons', as you call them, are the reason I am still alive," Morrigan retorted.

"I meant it as a compliment," I said. Morrigan looked confused. I pressed on before she could question me. "I can't imagine anyone growing up in an environment like that without ending up a total wreck. But you managed. Those lessons must have made you a stronger person."

Morrigan pondered this for a second. "They did indeed."

She smirked and glanced at me.

"Speaking of stronger... I know what you did in the Fade," she said slyly. "You made a deal with the demon, did you not?"

I did a double-take.

"Do not worry yourself," she said off-handed as I spluttered. "I have no interest in exposing you. What did the deal entail?"

"I... ah... learned blood magic," I admitted. "And I can use my powers now, apparently." Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

"And the demon?"

"Got a knife through her throat the minute she taught me," I replied. Morrigan chuckled.

"You truly are full of surprises," she remarked. "In fact, I may be inclined to appraise your powers at a later date."

"Um, thank you?" I said.

The next day Elisa gathered the troops by the smouldering campfire and handed out Feastday budgets. Everybody got money to give at least one other party member a gift. Elisa was deep in the spirit of the holiday, practically bouncing. It made me happy to witness her enthusiasm. Sten, however, was not in the mood.

"There are darkspawn to be fought, and a Blight to be ended," he said critically. "You would waste our time with a pointless holiday?"

"Gee Sten, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" the Warden grumbled.

"I am simply focused on our task. What is your excuse?"

"A lot has happened in the past month," Elisa replied. "Party relations aren't exactly at a high point. Think of it as a morale-boosting exercise – friendly soldiers are happy soldiers, happy soldiers are loyal soldiers, and loyal soldiers are dangerous soldiers."

Sten pondered this for a second. "Reasonable enough."

"GREAT!" Elisa perked up again, a little louder than she'd intended. "Now off you go. Present time!"

We wandered into town. Morrigan stayed behind, ever the Scrooge. She gave me her Feastday allowance since she didn't need it. Unfortunately, I wasn't as well-received in the town as I'd expected. It was certainly big enough to lose yourself in the crowd, but I was just too conspicuous. My armour certainly didn't help – the sleek, dark-gray metal and claw-tipped fingers made me look the part of a maleficar. I ended up sidling around nervously like I was afraid of being lynched.

I'd completely lost track of Leliana. She'd give Altaïr a run for his money on the social stealth front. Alistair and Wynne were cruising the markets together, arguing about presents. Alistair seemed to be getting flustered, and I wasn't sure why. Sten simply stomped around, letting the crowd part before him like a big stoic Moses. I couldn't see Elisa anywhere. Was she preparing some big Feastday surprise back at camp?

I racked my brains. I had to remember what everybody liked. I passed a stall that sold miscellaneous items, and sitting among the junk was an old leather-bound book. I asked the shopkeeper how much it was as I read the cover. I could just make out that it was a history text, but it was surprisingly cheap. I guess the shopkeeper was illiterate and just guessed. I paid for it – that's Wynne done – and moved on.

I came across a stall selling what seemed to be toys for smaller children. I would have just kept on walking, but I noticed a figurine that looked like a golem. I asked if it was a fully pose able golem figurine with detachable body parts. It was, so I bought it. So that was Alistair done – oh you adult child. After all that was done, I only had enough money for one more present.

The next stall I stopped at carried much finer items, like jewellery and expensive clothes. I jingled the last of my coins in my hand and tried to buy something for Leliana, but the shoes on display were too expensive. I bought her a finely decorated hand-mirror instead with the last of my money.

I went back to the main gate where we were supposed to rendezvous before heading back. I was the second-last to get back – Alistair was having an agitated conversation with Wynne and Leliana. Wait a second... was he still calling for me to be thrown out of the team? I sidled closer.

"Leliana, you're a girl, right?" he asked. Wait, what?

"The last time I checked," the bard replied.

"Ha-ha," Alistair laughed sarcastically, "But I need to know what girls like."

"Why are you so worried?" Leliana seemed amused.

"I don't want to, you know, mess this up," he rubbed the back of his head anxiously as he spoke. I almost laughed. Oh Alistair, if only you knew the great army of fangirls that awaited you in my world. Your virginity would last only a heartbeat before you are glomped to death.

"Be yourself. All that awkwardness – it's endearing," Leliana said kindly. Damn straight it is – he's the reason I made a female Warden... No homo. Anyway, we all headed back once Sten showed up. The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time we made it back to camp. Elisa suddenly leaped out from behind a tent, and I burst out laughing when I saw she was wearing a fuzzy Santa cap perched on her head. She urged us around to the campfire.

"First of all – booze time!" Elisa announced, producing several bottles of alcohol and handing them out.

"Uh, I don't drink," I said when she handed me mine. She looked surprised.

"Never been drunk before? I suppose that's fine – getting drunk is what landed me with this," Elisa said, indicating the black tattoos that trailed across her face. "Me and somebodies had a little too much mead one night and we ended up at a tattooist."

"Really? Did you regret it?"

"Of course not, these look great!" she replied. "Plus I look tough since I sat through someone poking a needle in my face for a few hours."

I conceded the point. I went against everything I'd heard in high school and in TV PSAs and started drinking. I normally despised the taste of alcohol, but this actually tasted pretty good. It was enough for us to forget out worries and just have fun. I was struck in particular by how fun Elisa was to be around when she wasn't in Warden mode.

"Alrighty, present time!" she declared. Wynne went first. There was a textbook about the Fade for me and a large set of socks and shirts for Alistair, who expressed great enjoyment at this. Leliana went next, giving a small painting to Sten and a bottle of wine for Wynne. Alistair gave Sten a box of cookies.

"In the spirit of our quest, I have given you something _useful_," Sten said shortly, and presented Elisa with a sword. It was certainly a lot better than my old sword, which Elisa was still using, and Sten was vague about where he got it.

"That's odd – I got you a sword as well," Elisa replied, smiling. She reached behind her and hauled over a package. It was a heavy two-handed sword, which she unsheathed. Sten's expression changed dramatically, and Elisa noticed. She hefted it up and handed it to Sten, handle first.

"Asala," he breathed, gripping the sword. "How did you-"

"Remember Dwyn from Redcliffe?" Elisa explained. "He bought it from a guy who found it at Lake Calenhad. I persuaded Dwyn to give it to me after the battle, given how peeved you would have been had I told you about him."

Sten was speechless. He stared at the sword, as if he could scarcely believe he was holding it. At last he looked up, and he actually smiled.

"Words cannot express my gratitude-" he started.

"Then don't try," Elisa cut him off. "Tis the season and all that."

Sten was silent for a while again. He sheathed Asala. "Thank you, _kadan._"

And there it is – the Dragon Age version of _siha_. It was my turn next. I handed Wynne the book, and she seemed to like it. I tossed Alistair the golem action figure, but passed it off as a joke. He went along with it to save face, but I could see he was thrilled by it. I reached into my pack and pulled out the mirror. I raised it, and started to speak, but I noticed the reflection. Morrigan was sitting alone by her tent. I faltered.

"Ventus?" Elisa asked. I stood up.

"This one's for Morrigan," I said. I turned and walked towards her. She looked up as I approached.

"Come to take pity on me for being lonely during a holiday?" Morrigan asked sarcastically. "You'll find I have no such need for trivialities."

"Sure," I said, and sat down next to her. I turned, and handed her the mirror. "This is for you."

She took it, and stared into the reflective glass. She was shocked, and slightly confused. Then her expression softened, and she slowly opened her mouth.

"Where... where did you get this? Tis almost identical to the mirror that..." she said slowly.

"The mirror Flemeth broke."

"This is... Why did you give me this?" she asked.

"I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do."

"But surely you wish something in return," Morrigan strove on. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," I replied, a little surprised. "It's a gift, Morrigan. I gave it to you because I thought you'd like it."

"Oh..." she said. Did I just put Morrigan on her back foot? Wow... this is incredible.

"Thank you. Truly."

I looked away, suddenly a little uncomfortable. In doing so, I accidentally spotted Elisa and Alistair. They were standing under a tree just a little way away. They didn't seem to have noticed us, and I could just hear them. Alistair was holding something.

"Where did you find this?" he was asking.

"In Arl Eamon's study."

"Really? He must have kept it after throwing it at the wall. He fixed it... why?" Alistair asked.

"Maybe you mean more to him than you think," Elisa replied. I noticed how closely they were standing together. Alistair reached into his pouch and withdrew a rose. He gingerly handed it to Elisa and withdrew his hand, waiting for her response.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, thumbing the rose's petals.

"I picked it while we were in Lothering," he said. "Call me sentimental, but I didn't want to leave it for the darkspawn to destroy. I remember thinking; how can something so beautiful exist in a world with so much darkness?"

Alistair took a step closer to Elisa. Their eyes made contact, and they shared a warm smile.

"I think the same thing when I look at you," he said. Elisa glanced up.

"Is that mistletoe we're standing under?" she asked.

"I don't see any-"

"I _think_ it's _mistletoe_," Elisa said emphatically.

"Yes, _definitely_ mistletoe!" Alistair agreed quickly. They embraced, and their lips met. Elisa and Alistair shared their first kiss as the sun finally set. I looked away smiling, not wanting to intrude on their intimate moment. Morrigan wasn't looking – whether she was ignoring them or hadn't noticed them I didn't know. She was staring at the mirror, her hands tracing over the carvings in the frame. It was then I realized how close we were sitting.

"So what does it take to get on your good side?" I asked.

"You are already on my 'good side', such as it is," she replied. "Or do you desire something more... intimate?"

A crazy idea popped into my head, and I would have smothered it if not for the booze affecting my better judgement. I leaned close.

"What are you doing?" Morrigan said suddenly, jerking back reflexively. I stopped.

"Uh... I'm sorry. Do you want me to-" I said quickly, embarrassment beginning to rush over me.

"No. I may have a problem if you stop," Morrigan said slyly, smiling slightly. A million thoughts rushed through my head – did she actually like me, did I actually like her, why did I want to kiss her, why didn't she have a problem with that, why was she so eager to... It was all washed away by some booze-fuelled courage as Morrigan and I came together. I closed my eyes, and an instant later felt the soft touch of her lips on mine.

And that was the first time I kissed a girl.


	10. Chapter 9: The Princess Warden

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; Morrigan is apparently interested in our hero. Let's see how that pans out._

* * *

I woke up early the next day, as usual. I certainly hadn't drunk enough the previous night for a full-fledged hangover, but I didn't feel a hundred percent at all. It still took me a while to realize that I was in Morrigan's tent. I went outside, and came across Morrigan standing outside.

"You are finally awake, then?" she observed.

"A little," I replied. "Morrigan, about last night; did we... _do_ anything?"

Morrigan looked surprised. "You do not remember? You could not be stopped – you said you were part Archdemon, part wild animal and part unstoppable sex machine-"

She was unable to keep a straight face as my own collapsed into a singularity of horror and embarrassment.

"No Ventus, nothing _untoward_ happened. You simply fell asleep in my tent," she explained. "However... should you _desire_ such an act, I would not resist overmuch."

"Um... well... thank you Morrigan..." I stammered. I was completely unable to process what was happening, so I just caved and bolted for my tent. I could feel Morrigan's eyes on me as I left. Man, what is going on? A woman like Morrigan wouldn't feel that way about me, not in a million years! It's like... it's like I've skipped a few scenes or something.

I ended up almost running into Elisa again. She looked just fine despite her bingeing the night before. Her hair was unbound again, and she was humming happily.

"I knew it," I said.

"Hm?" Elisa seemed to just notice me.

"You two are great for each other."

"What are you-?"

"I saw you and Alistair last night," I explained. "I think it's great."

"I... I don't know..." Elisa said quietly, nervously playing with her hair. Wait a sec, she was nervous? That's nothing like the Elisa I know.

"What's wrong?" I asked. The two of us sat down by the campfire's smouldering coals.

"It's just... so much could happen," she said slowly. "Wynne says I'm ignoring the Blight and the greater good just because of my feelings for Alistair, and sometimes I feel like I agree."

She looked at me, and her face was full of worry and self-doubt. "Is Wynne right? Am I just being selfish?"

It took me a while to answer. Problem was, I _knew_ where this relationship was going to end up. Elisa would have to face two sadistic choices, choices that could shatter everything she'd built with Alistair. I ached to tell her, to do something to relieve her anxiety.

"I don't think so," I said finally. "Seeing the two of you together is like seeing two different people. You're so... happy together. For Alistair especially, he seems to forget all his problems with you. You make up for the loss of his family, in a way."

"The feeling's mutual."

"Hm?"

"Being with him helps me forget what happened to mine," Elisa said quietly. "It was long before I met you – two months at least. My family's castle in Highever was attacked by Arl Howe. He-"

Elisa broke off. She was staring at the ground, struggling to keep her emotions held back.

"He spared no one. Not the men, not the women... not the children," she said, her voice strained. "My best friend, Ser Gilmore. My father... If Duncan hadn't been there..."

"You must have been grateful to Duncan," I observed.

"No," Elisa said suddenly. "I hated him."

"Why?"

"Because he _forced_ me to leave," the Warden replied, her voice cracking slightly. "He conscripted me while I was standing in a pool of my father's blood. He dragged me out of the castle kicking and screaming. I tried to escape twenty times over the course of our journey to Ostagar. Part of me... part of me wishes I could have stayed."

"But then you would have died."

"I know."

I didn't know what to say to that. Elisa and I sat silently for a little while.

"Enough of this," she said suddenly, standing up. "I've got a country to save. There'll be enough time for me later."

It struck me again just how vulnerable Elisa was beneath her Warden exterior. But I didn't worry – she was in good hands with Alistair. I was confidant they'd take care of each other. I just hoped with all my might I'd have the skill and foresight to guide the two Wardens through this unscathed.

* * *

We had another three weeks worth of travel to get to Denerim, so we set off early. Elisa's relationship with Alistair became so overt that the rest of the party figured it out. Sten was indifferent, but Leliana actually seemed disappointed. I actually hadn't noticed a girl-crush on the Warden, but I suppose Elisa was just like that. In other romance news, I didn't muster up the courage to talk to Morrigan about our kiss. I still couldn't figure out her angle. What did she see in me?

Nightly sparring resumed. Elisa started using just one sword, but held in her left hand. She explained that her dual-weapon style still needed a massive amount of work, and the sparring helped, but she needed to try something new. She was still incapable of wielding two full-size swords practically. It was while she worked so hard on her fitness. Since her arms needed to be strong enough for her to parry strikes one-handed, it made sense.

Two days later I got a different type of training. I'd just finished my sparring with Elisa – bruised thoroughly – when Morrigan approached me.

"Come, we have work to do," she said, offering no possibility for argument. I just followed her. She took us far from the campsite and into a clearing in the woods. She checked to see that nobody was following us.

"What's this about?" I asked.

"I said I would appraise your powers, and I will," Morrigan replied. "Show me your best spell."

I shrugged uselessly. "Morrigan, I don't know the first thing about magic. That stuff in the tower was Uldred manipulating me. I don't think I could do it again if I tried."

"Unacceptable," Morrigan snapped. I looked surprised.

"With that attitude you will never harness your power," she went on. "Attempt to be _reasonable_ with magic and it will swallow you whole. You must take command of its energies; bend it to your will."

There was a short silence. "Um... yeah. I'll... get right on that."

"Do as I do," she said. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her hands moved. I felt the magic before I saw it, like a tingling in my skin. Fire sprung up in her hands, coalescing into a small fireball. She held it suspended between her hands for a moment before flinging it outwards. It impacted across the dirt and exploded in a puff of flame.

"That was kind of small," I observed.

"You would rather I burned down the forest?" Morrigan replied.

"Small is good."

I concentrated. I tried to recapture that feeling from the tower. That unbridled power I'd felt – how had Uldred brought it out? I tried all the movie-style spiritual techniques that I could think of, but nothing came. I copied Morrigan's movements anyway, with no result.

"Attempt that in battle and the enemy's only risk shall be dying of laughter," Morrigan remarked. Well you're just a ray of sunshine.

"Perhaps something else," she decided. "Lightning may be simpler for you. Imagine that your body contains a flow of energy. This flow is our magic. We use it to bend the laws of reality in certain ways. This force requires sacrifice – which is why those of lesser willpower will tire from spellcasting."

"Some say the fireball is the classic mage's weapon, but I disagree," Morrigan went on. Her hands were moving again, slowly tracing the air. "Lightning is the most basic form of that energy. You must find it within you-

My skin tingled. Electricity flashed across Morrigan's hands.

"Let it build."

The charge grew stronger, beginning to arc between her hands like she was a human Tesla coil.

"And _release,_" Morrigan slammed her hands together as she spoke and pointed two fingers at a nearby tree. A focused bolt of lightning pierced straight through, dissipating almost before I could register its existence. A smoking hole in the trunk was all the evidence that remained.

"Now try," Morrigan ordered. She stepped back, and I tried to slow my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I tried to visualize what Morrigan had said. An energy current... I have the power. I _know_ I do. I concentrated, expelling all other thoughts.

I moved my hand. There was the smallest spark, and I started with surprise. The magic faded.

"_Concentrate_," Morrigan said. I tried again. This time I tried to suppress my excitement as a tiny spark of electricity flashed on my hand. I brought my hands together, splaying my fingers to form a sort of 'cage'. Tiny bolts of electricity were flashing between my palms and fingers. I was holding lighting in my hands. I let it charge. The building force was starting to press against my hands. It wanted to escape. I panicked and released.

_Fizzle_. There was an embarrassing noise and the charge dissipated. Morrigan shook her head.

"You are still too timid," she explained. "Do not be afraid of it."

She rubbed her eyes. "Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow. You are obviously not ready."

I burned with embarrassment. Come on, one successful spell. For Morrigan!... Why am I so eager to please her?

I forced all those thoughts from my mind, but an idea hit me. I had no idea where it had come from, and to be honest it made no sense. But I still did it. I swung my left hand around and slapped it across the shoulder plate of my armour.

And I felt the power again. It was the same as what I'd felt at the tower – energy coursing through my veins, making my blood sing. I was filled with inner warmth. I wasn't aware of Morrigan anymore, just the power. I had no problem visualizing the energy current – I already felt it. I felt the energy flowing down my arms, collecting invisibly in my hands. Slowly, the energy became visible, not as lightning but air. I brought my hands together again and the air was visible, like a big swirling sphere. It grew, becoming the size of a basketball.

I lowered my stance and pulled the air sphere back to my hip. When I felt the magic grow almost too strong to control, I brought my hands forward and released.

It was solid column of wind, just like the one I'd used against the Pride demon. The air was moving so fast it obliterated everything in its path, throwing dirt and stones into the air. All the leaves from the trees in front of me were flung into the air. The feeling of elation was indescribable – I was powerful.

_Kamehameha, bitch_, I thought.

The energy faded, and I felt the after-effects. I swayed dangerously, and leaned against a tree to steady myself. Morrigan stepped up to inspect my handiwork, apparently unfazed. My spell had even blasted the tree trunks smooth. Morrigan brushed her hand across the spell-polished surface.

"Better," she said. I grinned.

The subsequent nights, however, Morrigan forbade me from... whatever it is that I did. From what I could guess, pressing the plate had let me use the full extent of my powers. Why Morrigan wouldn't let me do it, I didn't know. In any case, it was incredibly hard. Morrigan was an unforgiving teacher, but I still made some progress.

* * *

Then, a few days from Denerim, we came across a woman standing beside a broken wagon. Elisa rushed up to her, concerned. The woman tearfully explained that her family was being held captive by bandits. Being the heroic types, we rushed off to follow her. She led us into a 'bowl' with a narrow entrance and cliffs on either side. Three wagons were arranged in a rough semicircle. The woman slowed to a walk and turned, smirking at us. I suddenly realized how stupid I was.

"It's a trap!" I shouted. A bit slow on the uptake there, Admiral. Too late, the massive tree to the right of the entrance toppled. With a mounting sense of dread, I realized what was about to happen. The party had been travelling in a haphazard formation, secure in the knowledge that we wouldn't be surprised by darkspawn. The tree came down when only a couple of us had entered. Elisa reacted the fastest, stiff-arming Alistair so hard he was knocked onto his ass. The tree came down just where he had been, with enough force to make us stagger.

When the dust cleared, I was left standing with Elisa and Wynne as our ambushers revealed themselves. Four archers stepped out from behind trees on the cliffs above us, drawing arrows. Another five bandits stood up from behind the wagons, drawing swords. The woman took a fighting stance, magical energy flaring at her fingertips. Finally, their leader revealed himself.

Zevran Arani didn't look quite as 'pretty' as I'd expected him to. Mostly he just looked murderous, drawing a sword and Crow dagger. Unfortunately for us, his ambush was going to go a lot better than in the game. For example – we wouldn't survive getting turned into human pincushions. To add insult to injury the tree blocking our escape route went up in flames, preventing the others from helping.

"Any ideas?" Elisa asked, the three of us clumped up defensively.

"Just one – but you must be ready," Wynne replied. She raised her staff.

"The Grey Warden dies here!" Zevran shouted. The archers fired.

Wynne cast a spell. I vaguely recalled it as the Heroic Aura spell, which was an anti-arrow defence. Wynne put most of her power into the spell, shielding all three of us. The four arrows were turned aside at the last moment, barely nicking us before landing harmlessly in the dirt. Heh, it was like movie-hero plot armour.

"GO!" Elisa yelled. She and I took off, sprinting at the bandits. They seemed surprised at the sudden move, which worked to our advantage. The apostate next to Zevran flung a bolt of lightning at Elisa. The Warden dropped into a roll, the spell passing over her head. She was about to attack again, but Elisa was a lot closer. The Warden dodged an energy bolt and decapitated the woman neatly. Behind us Wynne traded salvos with the archers.

Elisa may have been skilled, but she couldn't fight five men at once, especially if one was a Crow. I leaped to her side, heading off one of the bandits before he could reach her. He was an ugly brute, wielding an axe. As much as I hated the thought, I was probably going to have to kill him. All those thoughts were driven from my mind when he attacked. I hastily raised my shield and his axe bit deep into the wood. I tried to pull free, but the axe stuck. The man chuckled, but I stepped forwards and whacked him in the temple with the crossguard of the Green Blade. He toppled.

I spun around. Zevran was sneaking up on Elisa, about to deliver a fatal backstab while she was distracted. I raced over to help her, but I was held back by the knowledge that Zevran was a potential party member. Damn, I wonder how Elisa will justify recruiting him. No, focus!

I went to smack him across the head. He heard me coming, and spun around. He knocked aside my sword with his dagger and swiped at me with his sword. I ducked aside desperately and made a retaliatory swing. He blocked it with both blades and twisted it from my grasp. Crap.

My options exhausted, I swung at him with my bound armour. The claws bit into his skin and slashed across his face. Zevran recoiled, howling in pain. I took the chance to scoop up my sword and beat a hasty retreat up the hill. With a sinking feeling, I looked back and saw Zevran pursuing, mad as hell. I reached the top of the cliffs, and by now the archers were dead, but Wynne couldn't risk helping for fear of hitting me.

Zevran attacked with a thrust from his main hand. I missed the parry, but the blade scraped harmlessly off my bound armour. I swapped sword hands and used my armour as a makeshift shield, but it was doing no good. I was losing ground incredibly fast, and soon Zevran would have my back to the cliff. I recalled Elisa's lesson, and went on the attack. It put Zevran on his back foot for that once crucial second. I locked his main sword against mine and clamped my hand around his Crow dagger, wrenching it from his grip. Before he could react I slashed with my armour's claws again, this time digging into his leather armour and ripping off the main torso section. Zevran grunted in pain, but tossed me off easily despite his size.

I landed on my back. I crawled away, and Zevran pursued. He raised his sword for the final strike, and I went for my last option. My hand slapped across my shoulder plate, and my veins buzzed with the familiar, heady power. My hand snapped up and a sudden gale lifted Zevran bodily into the air. He toppled off the cliff, landing on one of the dead bandits. I lay there on the ground, panting furiously, my energy totally spent.

Below, Elisa had finished mopping up. Morrigan had put out the tree with her magic and the rest of the party gathered. Zevran staggered to his feet, his longsword in his left hand, looking around at the carnage.

"Things have not exactly gone as planned, eh?" he remarked conversationally.

"No. Doubtless your employer will punish you severely for your failure," Elisa replied.

"They always do that," Zevran said with mock annoyance. "You would think that the villainous sort that hire assassins would realize that failure is not the fault of the assassin's incompetence, but the target's vast skills."

He flashed Elisa a smile. "Or perhaps her vast beauty?"

Elisa's mouth twitched. "Are you hitting on me?"

"Why must you put it in so crude a fashion?" Zevran acted hurt. "I was merely commenting that I had been defeated by a beautiful goddess of war when the advantage was mine."

Alistair snorted. Elisa glanced sideways at him. The templar responded with a 'what?' pose.

"Goddess of war, huh?" the Warden metal geared. "I have an idea."

Elisa dropped her shortsword point-first into the ground and drew her long sword in her left hand. "Here it is; we have a duel. If you can beat me fairly, you can go."

Alistair made a vast array of gestures of protest behind Elisa, but she paid no attention. Zevran chuckled and flourished his sword.

"You are a fine woman. I hate to kill you," Zevran remarked.

"You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die," Elisa replied.

The two approached each other, and their blades touched briefly. It was about now I had a niggling sense of familiarity, but it was smothered by me wondering just how good Elisa was with only one sword.

There was a short string of strikes and parries. Zevran used his greater dexterity to strike fast in many different places while Elisa did her best to knock his sword off-course. They circled until Zevran had his back to the party and Elisa began to back away, towards the hill. She was completely on the defensive now, letting Zevran drive her backwards.

"You're using Bonetti's defence against me, eh?" Zevran asked. Huh, I didn't know he was a fighting buff.

"I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain," Elisa replied evenly. Wait a second...

"Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro?" Zevran went on, shifting his style.

"Naturally," the Warden shifted accordingly. "But I find Thibault cancels out Capo Ferro, don't you?"

Elisa was close to the edge now. After a particularly vicious parry that knocked Zevran back a step she turned and jumped, rolling to absorb the impact.

"Unless the enemy has studied their Agrippa-" Zevran leaped down after her, landing with expert grace, "Which I have."

The duel resumed. Elisa was forcing Zevran all over the place. At this point most of the party was getting a little bored. As Zevran's defence began to collapse, he was grinning uncontrollably.

"You are wonderful!" he complimented.

"Thank you – I've worked hard to become so," Elisa replied conversationally.

"I admit it – you are better than I am."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because I know something you don't know."

"And what is that?"

"I am not left-handed!" Zevran declared, swapping sword hands. He renewed his assault on Elisa, and the Warden was starting to lose ground. Her sword darted to and fro to fend off the elf, but he was too quick, and much stronger.

"You're amazing!" Elisa complimented after deflecting a particularly close thrust.

"I should be after my long and illustrious career," Zevran replied. The Antivan drove Elisa up to the cliff wall and pinned her against it, their blades locked together.

"There's something I ought to tell you," Elisa added.

"Tell me."

"I'm not left-handed either," the Warden quipped, tossing the elf off her. Swapping sword hands she pressed the attack. Zevran found himself completely unable to keep up with the Warden. It was clear Elisa was just toying with him, missing obvious holes in his defence and parrying strikes close to her body. Elisa stepped close with a lunge, her blade running against Zevran's. She swung the locked swords in a wide circle, flicking the Antivan's sword out of his hand and into the air. Zevran raised his hands in surrender.

"That was fun. We should do it again sometime," the elf said happily. "Let me be plain – I wish to join you."

"Excuse me?" Even Elisa was confused by this.

"What she said!" Alistair interjected.

"I do not hold out hope of finishing my assignment – as you have made plain my lady, I lack the skill," Zevran explained. "The thing is, the Crows don't take kindly to failure. So they'll try to kill me – hardly fair after a lifetime of service, no? If I travel with you I am safe from them, and perhaps I can protect you against their methods in future."

Elisa rubbed her chin in thought. "Right. You must think I'm royally stupid."

"I think you're royally tough to kill," Zevran pointed out. "And _stunningly_beautiful-"

"Can we please stop with the flattery? Having an assassin compliment my looks makes me feel dirty," Elisa cut him off. "Who hired you?"

Zevran thought for a moment. "Hmm, let's see... A fellow by the name of Loghain, I believe."

"He just can't leave us be, can he?" Alistair exclaimed.

"Though it was not his idea, per say," the former Crow went on. "He merely approved it. The man who hired me was... Howe, I believe. Yes, Arl Howe."

Elisa was not happy.

"Where is he?" she demanded. "What was he up to? Did he mention me?"

"Er... no, not particularly," Zevran replied, slightly confused by Elisa's outburst. "I was hired to kill two Wardens – no more detail than that."

"He doesn't know I'm a Warden..." Elisa said to herself. A wicked smile slipped onto her face.

"What are you planning?" Alistair asked.

"What? Who said I was planning anything?" the Warden replied innocently.

"Don't play coy – I know that look. I see it on Morrigan every time she plots my violent death," the templar went on.

"Do not blame me – we have all done it at some point," Morrigan remarked.

"Shut up," Alistair shot back. "It's just that Howe's been getting to you lately. You shouldn't let your grudge affect our mission-"

"Grudge?" Elisa spun around. "That man killed my family. I see his face every time I go to sleep. He's all I've dreamed about for half a year now. Don't you call that a damn grudge."

She gripped the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry Alistair, I shouldn't have said that. You're right."

Zevran cleared his throat. "Are we going to determine if I live or not soon?"

"Yes yes, we're getting to you," the Warden said. "I'm just having a hard time being convinced an assassin that wants to kill me is a valuable member of my team."

"_Wanted_ to kill you," Zevran corrected. "Now that I have failed, I really see no reason to. I was not even getting paid for it – the Crows were. Which makes me as poor as a chantry mouse, truth be told."

"Even if I _do_ recruit you, what's to stop the Crows tempting you to betray me?"

"Please, Warden. By the time they think of that, no doubt you will have charmed me into a loyal soldier of Ferelden," Zevran replied. "Or perhaps it will be me doing the charming?"

Alistair cleared his throat very loudly.

"Sorry, somebody already has," Elisa remarked. "You've made your case... You're in."

" What the- _seriously?_ We're taking an _assassin?_" Alistair exclaimed. "How is this a good idea?"

"Don't worry about it, we can use him."

"Alright, alright, I see your point," Alistair conceded. "Though if there was a sign that we were desperate I think it just knocked on the door and said 'hello'."

"A fine plan," Morrigan remarked. "Though I would examine your food and drink much more closely from now on."

"That's fine advice for anyone," Zevran interjected cheerfully.

"Welcome Zevran; having an Antivan Crow join us seems like a fine plan," Leliana said, ever the optimist.

"Oh? You are another companion-to-be, then? I did not know such loveliness existed amongst adventurer types," he said seductively.

" ... Or perhaps not," Leliana said shortly. Elisa shook hands with the elf.

"I hereby swear an oath of loyalty to you," Zevran stated. "I shall serve you to the best of my ability until such a time as you think my debt repaid."

Meanwhile I'd managed to drag my sorry ass up off the dirt. We set off on the road to Denerim again, this time with a bisexual elf assassin in tow. Wait a second – Zevran was my least favourite party member! That means he'll act wildly out of character just so I can find excuses to hate on him! Ha-ha... horrible joke at another person's expense. Though Zevran can be pretty weird in-character. I wonder what the party will be like with him hanging around...

As we were leaving, Zevran found me. "You are the boy I fought, yes?" he said.

"Yes. Why?"

He indicated the crimson slashes across his face. "Why did it have to be the face?"

"I apologize for damaging such a work of art," I replied straight-faced.

"You have no idea," the elf chuckled.

"It's not that bad," I said. "If it scars, you'll look all rugged and mysterious. Girls love a man with a tragic past."

Zevran chuckled again, "And now I begin to see the upside."

On second thoughts, Zevran might not be so bad after all.


	11. Chapter 10: The Big City

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; our hero took a crash-course in magic from Morrigan and the Zevran the Antivan Crow was recruited._

_I am so sorry about that Princess Bride reference.

* * *

_

That night was much less awkward than I'd expected. Zevran wasn't exactly trusted by the others – a situation I knew too well – but he never let it bother him. Mostly I was just relieved that there was a different person for the party to focus their distrust on. I was feeling a little nauseous. More to the point, my armour's claws were still stained with Zevran's blood. Looking at it just made me feel worse. I felt... I don't know, like a psychotic brute for clawing him like that. Like an animal.

Morrigan tapped me on the back of the head, stunning me out of my reverie. It was time for more magic training apparently.

"Can't I just have one night off?" I grumbled. Morrigan glared at me.

"Have you forgotten what sleeps within you?" she snapped. "Unless you master your powers, the demon will swallow you whole!"

"Thanks for reminding me!" I shot back angrily. I sighed, but I followed Morrigan away from the camp site again. I really was angry at Morrigan now – but truthfully I was just scared. I worried that the demon might be getting stronger. We came to another suitable area for practice.

"Show me what you have learned so far," Morrigan ordered. I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind. I tried to visualize the flow of magic within me. In a relatively short amount of time, electricity began to flicker in my palm. I tried to let the magic build, like Morrigan had taught me. But again, the power seemed to grow suddenly and exponentially. It easily broke free from my hands, the charge dissipating uselessly all over the place. The failed spell ended with an embarrassing fizzle. Morrigan rubbed her eyes.

"Wrong again," she said, exasperated. "You are still too timid. You cannot be afraid to use your power."

"But what if it happens again?" I blurted out. Morrigan looked confused.

"What happened at the tower..." I went on quietly. "I hurt Elisa. I hurt all of you. I..."

My left hand clutched at my armoured right arm. "I never want that to happen again."

"Shall I wait until you have finished contemplating your navel?" Morrigan asked matter-of-factly.

"I... what!" I stuttered.

"Do not mind me," the witch went on, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Should you stumble across the secrets of the universe in your pointless self-pitying session, I would not want to put a damper on the event with common sense."

"Fear of the past is fear of your own shadow, Ven," she said, staring into my eyes. "And if you should live in the past – well, no wonder the future shall repeat it. We will continue."

I nodded. I almost instantly regretted it, however, when Morrigan produced two of Elisa's training swords.

"Wha-?"

"A new method," Morrigan cut me off, handing me one of the swords. "If you are to contribute to the party with your magic, you must learn to concentrate on two things at once."

"But I-"

"Cast lightning at those trees while I attack," she went on undeterred. "We will continue until you cast a successful spell."

Then she attacked me. She certainly seemed committed to the 'learn fast or die' mentality. I was just glad she didn't have any sword experience – I parried her attacks quite easily. Of course, the instant I tried to charge up a bolt of lightning I completely forgot about defence. Morrigan's training sword slapped me hard on the shoulder and the charge fizzled out.

"_Concentrate,_ Ven," Morrigan ordered as I parried another strike. "You must be _quick_."

I tried again, locking my sword with hers to buy some time – but I panicked. The charge built up too quickly and spilled out of my hand uselessly. Morrigan took the opportunity to break the lock and prod me hard in the sternum.

"Try again," she ordered. And that was when I got angry. I charged up a spell, but abandoned it the second I saw Morrigan swing. My own training sword came up, and Morrigan staggered backwards from the force. My sword locked against hers, I reached across with my free hand and slapped the shoulder plate of my armour. The familiar, heady sense of power flowed through me. I buzzed with energy. I flung out my left hand, and a bolt of lightning shot from it and into a tree with barely a second's pause. I looked back at Morrigan, smirking triumphantly.

That was when her sword burst into flames. Morrigan cried out in pain, dropping the flaming weapon. The instant it hit the ground the flames went out, the wooden sword none the worse for wear. I felt the power fade, and with the familiar feeling of exhaustion came a sickening rush of regret. My own sword dropped to the ground.

"Morrigan, I'm so sorry! I-" I began, moving towards her.

"Stay back!" she snapped. I staggered to a halt. "I told you not to use that plate, did I not?"

"I'm sorry, I thought I could control it-"

"You cannot and you _should_ not," the witch shot back. "All this time, have you not _once_ considered why you have this ability? Even a child would begin to suspect something, and yet you remain oblivious!"

I went quiet. Morrigan turned away from me, inspecting her burnt hands. I could hear her hissing in pain. I glanced at her hands, and felt the regret anew at the sight of the burnt and blackened skin.

"Will you be alright?" I asked tentatively.

"I will make a poultice," she replied. "I know one strong enough for burns like these."

"What, with burnt hands?" I asked.

"You will find I am capable of taking care of myself," Morrigan replied pointedly. "This pain is nothing. I have endured worse."

She turned to leave. In a sudden flash of bravery I raced over to her.

"Wha-"

"Let me help," I asked.

"You cannot cast a simple lightning bolt, let alone mend wounds," Morrigan replied, bemused. "And your energy is spent. What do you think you can accomplish?"

My hand went to her arm. She didn't flinch when the cold, sharp metal touched her skin. I locked eyes with her.

"Please," I asked softly. "Please let me try."

There was a long period of silence as Morrigan's pale yellow eyes appraised me. Her reply was wordless. She offered me her hands, the palms facing up. I crouched down to get a closer look, gently cradling her hands in mine. The burns were pretty bad, and I could tell by how tense Morrigan was that she was in a lot more pain than she was letting on. I closed my eyes tight.

I tried to focus. I tried to visualize what Morrigan had tried to teach me, tried to call the flow of energy inside me. But no matter what I did, all I could think of was the pain in her eyes. The fire flashed behind my eyes, I heard the cry of pain again.

_I'm sorry. I never want to hurt anyone again._

I grabbed hold of that feeling. I felt it compress and grow stronger. It filled me up inside – softer and warmer than my other power. My desire to heal Morrigan flowed out of me, and that feeling became a reality. I felt the power buzz around Morrigan's hands, and heard her sharp intake of breath.

I opened my eyes again, and stood up. Suddenly my knees buckled, and I toppled over in complete exhaustion. I stopped just short of hitting the ground. Morrigan clutched my armoured hand in her own. Her smooth, uninjured hand. She hauled me upright and steadied me.

"That was... impressive," she said in a measured tone.

"I don't feel impressive," I mumbled back. Morrigan sighed and draped my arm over her shoulders. The two of us staggered back towards the camp.

"What you did was foolish and reckless," the witch said. "You could have killed yourself. What truly astounds me is that you were willing to risk your life over such a trivial wound."

"I just..." I panted. "I wanted to help you. I hated knowing I'd hurt you like that."

Morrigan didn't reply. She showed me to my tent in silence, and I managed to crawl inside unaided. I flopped onto my bedroll and fell asleep almost instantly, dead tired.

Funny thing was... I thought I heard someone say 'Thank you'.

* * *

_I fall through the air, without knowing if I fall up or down. There is a dizzying sense of speed, as I wonder when I will stop falling. At last I hit something – water. I plummet through the vast ocean, bubbles streaming from me. I slowly land on a stained-glass platform, a place that stirs recognition deep within me. I look around, trying to find out why I have come here._

You are in danger.

_I turn, senses dulled, trying to find the source of the voice. It reverberates all around me. My gaze lands on a huge door, something I didn't see before. It pulses from within with a sort of energy, but is held closed by locks and chains. I furrow my brow – weren't there more chains the last time I came here?_

The demon grows stronger.

_I turn at the sound of the voice. At this I notice a change, a difference in the mural beneath my feet. An image of me still floats in space, eyes closed in dreamless sleep. But now I hold a sword in my left hand – the Green Blade. The image holds it in a reverse grip, the blade parallel to his forearm. The right arm is covered with the same armour bound to me. The dark presence on the opposite side of the mural as spread, covering a third of the mural with its inky blackness. Tendrils reach across the platform towards the image of me, and a few have wound around the bound armour. _

You are not strong enough to face her alone.

_I try to respond, but my mouth refuses to obey me. I move as if I am underwater, my limbs sluggish. I back away from the door and the darkness, instinctual fear breaking through the fog of apathy. _

Do not be afraid.

_I look down and see another change. A small portrait of a woman sits in the mural next to my own image. I find myself unable to recall her name, but her face brings calm to me. I feel myself rise again, about to wake up. Again the memories of the dream fade, but before I wake I hear one last message._

One day you will open the door.

* * *

The next day I woke up tired and sore. One of the many downsides to my new armour was that it was incredibly uncomfortable to sleep with. Sometimes I would wake up with scratches all over me from the claws. On the upside, at least I could move without help. I crawled out of my tent and yawned widely, stretching.

Then I turned and noticed the huge slash in my tent. The fabric hung in tattered strands, four long gouges along the side. I blinked, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. I looked at my bound armour. Did... did I do that? I don't remember it. I can't have done it in my sleep. What the...?

Stupid as it may have been, I tried to push it out of my mind. The last thing I needed was is to be common knowledge that I sleep-clawed or something. It was still early, so I just made sure to pack up my tent before anybody else woke up. I was sure Elisa was around, but she was probably off hunting or running. Plus I couldn't stop thinking about what Morrigan had said. Did using the plate have some sort of huge downside I was missing?

I was glad when we finally moved off towards Denerim again. The long daytime treks were becoming less of a bother the more of them I did. I guess I was just getting fitter – then again, I had plenty of reason to. I took the opportunity to go talk to Elisa.

"I probably seem like an idiot for not noticing," I asked her, "But what happened to Malcolm."

"You really need to pay attention more," Elisa replied, slightly amused. "Back at Redcliffe he decided it was probably a waste to have all three Grey Wardens left in Ferelden travelling together. He took the dwarf treaty and went off to Orzammar. I offered to lend him a companion or two, but he said he worked better alone."

"So what are we doing in Denerim?" I asked.

"Well first of all, I'm an bloody sick of walking," Elisa huffed, blowing a strand of dirty blond hair out of her eyes. "I have blisters the size of a genlock. So we're going to see if we can get some horses."

"But one of us is about seven feet tall," I pointed out, "and another is a dog."

"I'm sure we can find something to fit Sten," Elisa waved me away, "and Barkspawn loves walking. Don't you, boy?"

"Arf!" Barkspawn replied enthusiastically.

"Second," the Warden counted off her fingers, "We're going to prioritize. We've got the dwarves and the elves to recruit, both on opposite sides of Ferelden, and we've got to find the Sacred Ashes of Andraste – Maker knows how – for Arl Eamon if we're going to have a hope of overthrowing Loghain."

"Doesn't that Brother Genitivi live in Denerim?" I recalled. "We could ask him."

"So you _do_ listen," Elisa said with a wry smile. "We can also find someone with an ear to the ground, someone that can tell us what Loghain and Howe are up to. Finally, Alistair's sister lives there. I wanted to take him to see her."

"Somehow I don't think it'll be the joyous reunion he's hoping for," I remarked.

"Neither do I," the Warden agreed, "but it's not the place of jaded, world-weary cynics like us to rain on Alistair's parade until we're absolutely sure."

"I don't think it matters either way," I said. "He just enjoys being with you."

"Oh really?"

"For example; he's been staring at you this whole time."

Elisa looked back. Alistair grinned sheepishly and looked away, his cheeks red. Elisa suppressed a chuckle and looked back. Even as I saw the happy smile on her face I felt sadness. I couldn't stop imagining what would happen come Landsmeet. I pushed those thoughts from my mind – I have to stop that from happening. I have to.

* * *

We finally made it to Denerim that night. Elisa decided to push us a little further in exchange for a night in a warm, comfortable inn. Not that I had any idea of the time, my watch having been lost in a negative space wedgie coming to Thedas, but it was late when we finally reached the gates. Unfortunately they were closed, and there were guards outside. We stopped short of the entrance, and Elisa came up to me.

"Alright, put this on," she ordered, tossing a black cloak over my head.

"But why?" I asked as I struggled to remove it from my head.

"I don't want to advertise the fact that you're an apostate," the Warden explained.

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Morrigan asked. Elisa didn't even respond. She just stared pointedly at my armour. I finished putting the cloak on and rearranged it, hiding my bound armour.

"Erm, Elisa, this just makes me look more like an evil mage-" I pointed out.

"Quiet you."

We approached the gate. Elisa knocked hard on the gate. A two bored guards leaned over the battlements, but paid more attention upon seeing a group of five heavily-armed travellers, two mages and a dog.

"Who goes there?" one called, hefting a crossbow menacingly.

"Elisa Cousland," the Warden called back.

"And does the long-lost 'lady' have proof?" the other sneered. Elisa paused for a moment, eyes closed, her mouth turned into an infuriating smile.

"Tell Sergeant Kylon that I'm here," she replied. One of the guards disappeared. Elisa stood around, tapping her foot. There was the sound of muffled yelling and stomping feet. A man I recognized as Sergeant Kylon leaned over the battlements. Elisa looked up at him.

"Elisa!" he called. "I thought you were dead!"

"Far from it," the Warden replied. "I'm a Grey Warden now."

There was a pause.

"You'd better come in, then."

We had to wait around tapping out feet some more as Kylon got the gate opened. At last the gates were heaved open, and from the amount of grunting I heard there were about four men at the doors. They were only opened a crack to allow us to squeeze through. Kylon was waiting on the other side. Once we had all squeezed through the four guards shoved the gates closed again. Elisa and Kylon shared a strong handshake.

"It's been too long," Elisa said.

"Unfortunately, there's no time for crime-fighting hijinks," Kylon replied. "Denerim has not been a kind city of late, and you'll find few people as accepting of your Grey Warden status as I."

"Believe me, I know," the Warden sighed. "Any chance you can direct us to the closest inn? I'd get there myself but I've forgotten where everything is in this damn city."

"Of course. But... If you don't mind me asking, who is that?" the sergeant asked, pointing at me. "He looks suspicious."

"Told you," I said. Elisa rolled her eyes.

"I'm Ventus Tabris," I said. Huh, that fake surname came quickly. I guess lying to everybody I meet is getting easier.

"In any case, my companions and I are rather tired," Elisa said.

"As am I," Kylon agreed, "But crime waits for no man, as they say." Oh God, did he mean to make that pun? Kylon gave us directions and we set off through the relatively deserted city streets. There were a couple of shady-looking people watching from alleyways, but our group was too large and well-equipped to be threatened. While we walked I asked Elisa how she knew Kylon, especially since he'd just been a relatively nondescript NPC from the game. Apparently the Warden had visited Denerim a lot growing up, and had one day wandered off on her own and come across Kylon attempting to arrest four thugs by itself. It had gone wrong, so the warrior-in-training had jumped in to help. He'd been impressed and, not knowing she was noble, offered her work. Elisa soon gained a friend with a few connections.

Anyway, we ended up in some nondescript tavern near the marketplace and bought the rooms – two rooms for the women and two for the men. Unfortunately I ended up bunking with Sten.

"Allow me to get this out of the way – I do not like this situation any more than you do," Sten rumbled.

"Hey, maybe this will turn out to be a bonding experience?" I suggested.

"No."

"Ok."

Sten sat cross-legged on the floor facing away from me. I went on with getting my things in order, hanging up what pieces of armour I could actually remove. I fumbled putting my sword away, though, and it landed on the ground with a loud _thump_.

"Disrupt my meditation again and your head will exit the room through that window," Sten said evenly.

And boy oh boy, did I get a good night's sleep!


	12. Chapter 11: Blackout

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; after accidentally injuring Morrigan during training, Ven discovered a hidden talent for healing. The Warden's party entered Denerim, and prepare for the next part of their journey.

* * *

_

I groaned and woke up. Still stuck in Thedas, still an abomination. I rolled over, and saw Sten still sitting on the floor. I sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes.

"Have you been there all night?" I asked.

"Have you?" Sten said cryptically.

"I'm not in the mood today, Sten," I mumbled. For some reason I still felt tired. I must have laid awake staring at the ceiling for hours. Please don't tell me I'm going to get insomnia dumped on me as _well_.

"Neither am I," Sten remarked. "But unfortunately the universe does not conform to suit your will, despite your... _talents_."

I just dropped it. Sten and I left our room a few minutes later after we'd finished dressing, and met up with the rest of the party having their breakfast.

"Ven, did you notice anything odd last night?" Elisa asked as I sat down.

"No... why?"

"Barkspawn heard somebody outside our room," the Warden went on. "You should have heard him – I thought he'd wake up the whole inn. But when I opened the door there was nothing there."

I shrugged. "Don't ask me. But if it turns out to be a ghost, don't let Alistair chase it around mildly insulting it."

Of course Elisa didn't get the reference, raising an eyebrow, but I offered no more explanation. Apparently we were going to stay another night and leave tomorrow morning for the Brecilian Forest. Anyway, we left pretty quickly after that. Outside I got my first proper look at Denerim. It was a massive city, and even relatively early in the morning the streets were quickly filling with people. The general populace seemed suspicious of our well-armed band, but after a few minutes of asking around we found out where Brother Genitivi lived. We found it just beside the marketplace, and filed inside.

"Ah, who are you?" Genitivi's assistant Weylon was inside, and he didn't take too kindly to us just barging in. Well, I knew he wasn't the real Weylon, but I tried not to let on what I knew.

"I'm looking for Brother Genetivi," Elisa explained, "I need his research on the Sacred Ashes."

"I'm terribly sorry, my lady," 'Weylon' apologised, "But I have not seen him in weeks. His research into the Urn may have led him into danger."

"And why would he be in danger?"

"Perhaps it was lost for a reason. I pray for his safety, but hope dwindles with each passing day," 'Weylon' suggested. "I-I tried to send help, but some knights from Redcliffe came looking for him not long ago. I sent them after Genitivi and they too have disappeared."

"But... how do you know they disappeared?" The Warden asked.

"Well, they... haven't returned, and they sent no word either," he stammered. Yeah, yeah, pull the other one.

"And why would they send _you_ word?"

"I don't know. After what happened to Genitivi, can you blame me for thinking the same could happen to them?" 'Weylon' asked. I could see he was getting nervous. He hadn't planned out his lies very well.

"So where did they go?" Elisa pressed. "I need to know, Arl Eamon's life is at stake."

"All he said before he left was that he would be staying at near Lake Calenhad, investigating the area."

"What was he investigating?"

"I don't know. All I discovered from his research was that he was staying at the inn," the man replied.

"But you just said he spoke to you and told you that," Elisa pointed out.

"Y-yes, of course he told me," 'Weylon' backpedalled quickly, "but I also went through his things to see if I could find other clues to his whereabouts."

Elisa narrowed her eyes. Her lips twitched into a knowing smile, and she took a slow step forward. "You sound nervous, Weylon. Hiding something, are we?"

"That's n-not true. I told you everything I know!" 'Weylon' stammered. "Brother Genitivi told us—t-told me about the inn and that's all!"

"You're lying again, Weylon," the Warden was another step closer. "That's _not_ a wise move."

"I gave you a chance to turn aside and forget you ever heard of Genitivi and the Urn. But you persisted," the imposter said. "Andraste forgive me – I do this in your name!"

I felt that familiar tingle in my skin. This man was an apostate, and he was about to use his magic. I went for my sword, but I was too slow. The apostate's arms crackled with magical lightning. Elisa narrowly dodged the first bolt, but suddenly Alistair was there to block the second on his shield. His sword flashed out and the imposter toppled, blood flowing freely from his stomach.

"Well, that was unexpected," I said.

"Search the place," Elisa ordered. "Weylon was lying about Genitivi being at Lake Calenhad – something tells me we would have found about a dozen assassins there if we'd actually gone. We need clues as to where he went."

The party split up. I made a beeline to the back room, followed by Elisa and Alistair. Just as I was opening the door Leliana found a book on the Chantry's history, specifically about Joan of Arc- I mean, Andraste's betrayal and death. Wynne found a book on dragon cults in a side room. In the back room I found a lumpy object beneath a blanket on the floor, surrounded by dried blood. Flies buzzed around it, and I gagged at the stench.

Elisa peeled away the sheet. "It seems the real Weylon was murdered some time ago."

"Then the Urn must be real," Alistair realized. "People wouldn't murder to protect something that didn't exist."

At this, I found a map. A small village labelled 'Haven' had been marked in the south-western section, clear on the opposite side of Ferelden. I showed it to the pair.

"Precisely, my dear Alistair," Elisa agreed. "The game is afoot."

* * *

We left the house. We ran across Sergeant Kylon patrolling in the marketplace and told him about the two corpses in Genitivi's house. He sighed, but thanked us for informing him anyway.

"Morrigan, could you please scout out the castle?" Elisa asked. "I think we should keep an eye on Loghain while we're here."

"As you wish," the witch replied in a long-suffering tone. "I shall return once I am done doing your bidding."

Morrigan walked away, disappearing into an alleyway. I felt the faint tingle of magic, and a raven flew out of the alleyway. It glided off towards the castle. The party split further, Elisa taking Alistair and Barkspawn off to see Goldanna. The rest of us were left to trawl the marketplace, searching for political info and a place to buy horses. On the first front, we discovered over the course of the day that Loghain was in the middle of a civil war with the rest of the Bannorn, apparently not too concerned about the impending Blight. He was still paranoid about an invasion from Orlais – which some were quick to point out was not exactly irrational. The decades-long occupation by Orlais had only ended a few years before, and some were still sore about it.

On the other hand, the horses were a problem. Just about any half-decent horse on the market had been bought out by the various Arls for use in the civil war and/or darkspawn attacks. All that were left were a handful of sway-backed old nags.

"Well, _this_ was a waste of time," I grumbled.

"Now now, don't get grumpy," Wynne said in that motherly tone of hers. "We've made do on foot for this long."

"Lucky Malcolm, getting his own horse..." I went on, ignoring her.

"Malcolm? Who is this?" Zevran asked.

"Another Grey Warden," I explained. "You didn't get to try and stab him because he's at Orzammar right now. Given our luck, though, he's probably in prison or in the Dead Trenches or something."

"Morrigan's cynicism is rubbing off on you, I see," Leliana remarked.

"Honestly, Leliana; do I _not_ have a reason to be a little bitter?"

Leliana declined to comment on that. We finished up the day by stocking up on supplies and went back to the inn. Elisa and Alistair were waiting at the ground floor, talking amongst themselves.

"So... I've been thinking about what you said, and you're right," Alistair was saying. "I need to look out for myself more. I need to stop letting everyone else make my decisions for me. I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I'm never going to be happy."

"It's about time, I say," Elisa replied.

"I just... wanted to thank you," the templar went on. "Being with you is the one bright spot out of everything that's happened."

"I feel the same way."

Wait, what? Elisa hardened Alistair? Well... that's odd. She didn't do that in my game. Anyway, we all gathered together and exchanged info. Shortly afterwards Morrigan walked through the door, looking miffed.

"What did you discover?" Elisa asked.

"First of all – the palace guards have an irrational hatred of birds," Morrigan replied. "I was shot at three times!"

"Ok then, when Alistair becomes king we'll fire them," the Warden said.

"Hey, we still haven't decided on that!" Alistair protested.

"What happened to the more decisive Alistair?"

"Nothing! I've _decided_ I don't want to be king thank you very much," the other Warden shot back.

"In any case, should you be wishing to assassinate Loghain you had best change your plans," Morrigan relayed. "He is well-guarded."

"I never planned to go after Loghain," Elisa explained. "Killing him wouldn't solve anything-"

"Wait wait wait wait wait, _what!_" Alistair cut her off. "Have you already forgotten what he did?"

"As I was _saying_," the Warden kept going, "Assassinating him would just create a power vacuum and make the civil war worse. To be honest, out best bet is to help Arl Eamon and put Alistair on the throne."

"Please, Warden; you underestimate the effectiveness of casual murder," Zevran added.

"_Really_? Does _everybody_ want me to be king?" Alistair wondered aloud.

"Loghain and Anora don't," I pointed out.

"Thank you, that makes it all better."

"Ah, Elisa..." Leliana interjected, "I don't know if you've noticed, but we were followed back here."

The Warden's eyes narrowed. "Any idea who?"

The bard was about to reply when Zevran cut her off. "Ah, I knew there was more to you than met the eye. I recognized quite a few of your techniques."

"I don't know what you-"

"Please now, let us be professional," the Antivan deflected. "You are quite skilled in the art of subterfuge."

"In any case, I guess we should be more wary tonight," Elisa decided. "I'll leave Barkspawn out in the hallway on watch."

We stuck around a few minutes, then all filed upstairs to our rooms. Barkspawn dutifully sat guard by the stairs, and the party went to bed with their weapons close. Sten was his usual sociable self, hardy har, and sat guard by the door. I pulled my tunic off and climbed into bed.

I couldn't fall asleep.

* * *

I woke up.

"Huh? Whuh?" I sniffed and rubbed my nose. Where am I? Why... am I standing up? My heavy, tired eyes opened laboriously, and I looked up. I'm... in an alleyway. It's night time. The moon is up. Why is the moon up? How long was I asleep? I'm not wearing a shirt... but I'm not cold. In fact, I feel really warm. I was aching all over for some reason. I rubbed my neck with my left hand... and felt something sticky and wet. Something sticky and wet I had just left a trail of over the bridge of my nose. What...? I knew what it was, but I didn't want to believe it. With cold, freezing fear coiling like a snake in the pit of my stomach, I slowly moved my hand in front of my face.

Blood.

My hand is drenched in it.

It started trembling. My mouth tried to form words, but no sound came out. My mind was blank, fear and confusing blocking out all rational thought. I heard a strained gurgle from by my right hand. My gaze slowly lowered.

There was a man. His face was a mess of deep slash marks and covered in blood. My armoured hand was clamped around his throat, so tight he couldn't breathe. He weakly clutched at my armoured arm, hands slippery with blood sliding across the smooth metal before hanging limp, lifeless. The last of the man's breath came in a hideous wheeze as he died. My mind recoiled. The dead man dropped from my grip, landing on ground already slick with blood. I let out a strangled gasp.

The ground was littered with corpses. I found myself unable to take my eyes off the gory scene. There were at least eight men, all dead with similar injuries. Injuries that I recognised. My armour was soaked in blood, bright red gore dripping from the razor-sharp claws. There were a few cuts and bruises over my torso, but the majority of the blood wasn't mine. I took a staggering step back. Then I noticed one more thing. There was something wrapped around my arm. I numbly lifted it up to my face. Dangling from my gauntlet was a bloodstained steel symbol of Andraste and a long strip of cloth. Cloth from a Chantry robe.

I dropped to my knees. There was the jingling of armour behind me. Elisa raced into view.

"Ven! Are you alright? What happened?"

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I couldn't stop staring at my hand. The clawed fingers flexed unconsciously.

"Ven? What happened?" Elisa asked again, more urgent. She saw what was in my hand.

"Where's Leliana?"

My mouth moved soundlessly.

"What happened!" Elisa grabbed my blood-slick shoulders and shook me.

"I DON'T KNOW!" I screamed. "I DON'T REMEMBER!"

Elisa let go of me. Confusion and shock were clear in her eyes. She backed away. My breath came short and fast. Everything crashed down around my head.

"What's happening to me?" I sobbed. Elisa didn't respond. She turned and left.


	13. Chapter 12: XVIII  The Moon

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; arriving in Denerim, our hero realizes that he's not as in-control as he thinks..._

_Music recommendation! Open this video; _http:/ . com/ watch?v= M8rIplP4dS8 _(remove the spaces) and pause it at 7:45. Then, when you see 'xoOox', play it.

* * *

_

I'm numb. I can't feel anything. Not the wind on my face, not the night air on my bloodstained skin. I'm on my knees. The world is silent.

What have I done?

The symbol of Andraste drops to the ground. The chain was snapped. I gingerly picked it up. It was Leliana's. What did I do? I... I've...

I killed her, didn't I? It's the only explanation. The demon controlled me. It made me kill her. I... I can't stay. I can't stay with the group anymore. I'm too dangerous. I have to leave.

I stood up. I stumbled away blindly. Denerim's endless twists, turns and alleyways opened up in front of me. I wasn't even conscious of where I was going. My mind was filled with just one thought, repeated over and over. Please let her be alive. Please let her be alive.

Shadowy figures appeared ahead of me. I staggered to a stop, hemmed in by the narrow alleyway. There were three, and they were armed. I turned to run. There was another man behind me. I was trapped. I pressed up against the wall as the men approached. Their swords winked in the moonlight. I didn't know who they were, or what they wanted.

"Once we get the recruit, we can move on to the Wardens with the others," the man to my right said, seemingly the leader. They were getting closer. I was unarmed, and unarmoured. I only had one option. I pressed the plate on my armour. Power flowed through me, revitalizing me. I stood tall, and raised my hand. A spark flared in my palm, growing into a small flame. I slowly closed my fist over the fire, and it grew out to envelop my fist.

"You didn't tell us he was a mage!" One of the thugs exclaimed.

"He's bluffing!" the leader yelled. "Kill him!"

"I _am_ a mage," I don't know where the words came from. I hissed them, with a dark, dangerous undercurrent. "I'm the worst kind there is."

The flames grew. They spread like wildfire up my arm, covering the armour in magical fire.

"I'm an _abomination_," I spat. With a sudden snarl I lashed out, scoring four long claw marks down the side of the wall beside me. That was it. The three thugs turned and ran, leaving me alone with the leader. The power faded, and I paid the price. Pain lanced through my head and I collapsed against the wall.

"I knew you were bluffing," the leader snarled. He came towards me, sword bared. It was bigger than a regular longsword, with a larger grip and hilt. I struggled to get up, but I was more drained than usual. It felt like I had just run a marathon. The man raised his sword for the killing blow. I managed to roll away just in time. The sword stuck in the ground beside me, and the man paused for just a second to pull it free. I lashed out wildly and scored some deep cuts in his sword arm.

He snarled in pain and ripped the sword free. He pulled it back and swung it in a punishing arc right at my head. I raised my arm to block, but the force of the blow knocked my entire body to the side. The man drew his sword back for a thrust aimed at my heart. I caught the blade with my armoured palm and turned it to the side. It stuck in the ground again just beside my chest. I kicked up desperately, and my foot connected with the man's side. It stunned him just long enough for me to wrench the sword out of his grip.

We tumbled away from each other, and I struggled to my feet, bastard sword in hand. I gripped the sword with both hands and swung it as hard as I could. The heavy sword easily cut through the man's neck, and it was over. I stood there for what seemed like forever, panting from exhaustion. I didn't want to think about what I had just done. I _couldn't_.

Wait. They were after Elisa and Alistair. There are more. I... I have to help them. Somehow. I set off again, armed this time. The bastard sword was much heavier than the Green Blade, but I managed with it. I had no idea where I was going, I just ran. As I ran I grew more and more desperate. My breath was coming in short gasps. I was about to give up.

I slammed into another person running the opposite way while rounding a corner. We both hit the ground hard, and I groaned in pain. I rolled over and looked at the person I'd hit.

It was Leliana. Relief flooded into me, so intense I can't even describe it. For just a second, everything was right in the world.

"You're alright!" I exclaimed. Leliana noticed me, and her expression was one of confusion and fear.

"Wha- we have to go!" she mastered her emotions quickly. She turned and ran again. I hauled myself to my feet and raced after her. I heard footsteps behind us.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"She found me!" the bard responded.

"Who?"

"Majorlaine. I knew her a long time ago – I came to Ferelden to escape her. She's finally found me again."

We were heading for a gateway that led back towards the north half of Denerim. Suddenly the portcullis crashed down, cutting us off. Leliana stopped so fast she skidded, and I ran into her again. We spun around to find another way, but it was too late. Majorlaine's men had caught up. There were five of them, all thugs like the ones I had chased away. A sixth figure casually strolled into view, a bow slung across her back, and I knew it was Majorlaine.

"Leliana. It has been a long time," the Orlesian spymaster said conversationally.

"Not long enough," Leliana spat. She drew her shortswords, having apparently lost her bow.

"Do not act so surprised," Majorlaine went on. "You knew you could not escape your past."

"I _did_," Leliana shot back. "I was free of the game, and I was free of you! Why do you keep pursuing me?"

"_Please_, Leliana," Majorlaine's face grew dark. "Let us not foul the air with lies. My star pupil; she goes to Ferelden, wears her hair like a boy, and lives in a chantry... For so long I wondered what you were up to. Then, you left, so suddenly. You had just been biding your time."

"I... I can't believe you. All this time you've been watching me, thinking- thinking I had some kind of sinister plan?"

"It has nothing to do with you!" I butted in suddenly.

"Oh really?" Majorlaine sneered. "And I suppose she has told you that herself?"

"She joined us because she believes we can save Ferelden," I replied. "Whatever it was she's done, she's left that behind!"

The Orlesian chuckled. "My dear, naive boy. She is a wily one. You should have seen her in her prime – she had such a talent for manipulation. I fear... she has exercised that talent over you."

"Majorlaine-"

"Do not deny it! She plays the innocent little girl, lures you with honeyed words. The game always thrilled you, didn't it Leliana? So much so... I believe you can no longer live without it."

"You're wrong!" I shouted. Majorlaine seemed annoyed.

"Kill him."

One of the men shouldered a crossbow. It pointed at me, and before I could do anything his finger went to the trigger.

He went down. A hand clutched at Leliana's thrown dagger in his throat as the wound pumped blood. Leliana raised her other dagger. Majorlaine slowly unslung her bow and dropped it on the ground. She stepped over the dead man and drew a dagger of her own.

"Come now, Leliana. We shall see how strong your faith really is."

I raced over, sword raised. Majorlaine directed the thugs towards me. As the four of them bore down on me I knew I wasn't going to win. But for some reason, I wasn't afraid. In that moment, Leliana was all that mattered.

One of them managed to reach me first. I swung my bastard sword downward in a diagonal arc. He blocked with his own sword, but I took the chance to make a backhand cut. The blade caught the man's throat, and he went down. The next two arrived simultaneously. I swung in a wide horizontal arc, right to left, hoping to hit both at once. The man on my right parried, leaving me wide open to the one on the left. I lashed out with a kick to the groin, hopefully keeping him out of the fight. I narrowly parried a counterattack from the first man, but during the second our swords were locked me headbutted me.

I staggered back, lights flashing behind my eyes. Just as I recovered, I saw the fourth man coming. I threw another wide swing, hoping to ward off the third man's inevitable follow-up. He didn't manage to hit me, but the fourth man did. His sword raked across my chest, leaving a long slash from shoulder to pec. The pain almost beat me to my knees. I clumsily warded off another strike, and spun to counterattack. I caught the fourth man with a glancing strike to the thigh, but the third laid a short cut across my back. I cried out and stumbled. This cut was even more excrutiating than the last.

I looked up and saw the third man standing over me. He was smiling now. He could see the battle was won. From the footsteps I heard, the fourth man was behind me too. The thug in front of me slowly raised his sword above head-height. I'm so tired... so weak... so much pain... so exhausted. Want... to sleep. Rest

No. Move. Come on.

The sword reaches its apex.

_Do it, Ven!_

My sword, already in a reverse grip, stabs backwards. I feel it sink into the man behind me. Without pausing I draw it out and swung it upwards in a punishing arc as I rise. It laid open a gash in the third man from hip to shoulder. I stood there, panting, as the two men collapsed. I'd done it. Somehow, I'd beaten four men by myself. Speaking of which – the man I'd kicked was struggling to get up. I made sure he stayed down by hitting him it the forehead with the pommel of my sword.

I turned and raced towards Leliana and Majorlaine. The two were in the middle of a furious dagger duel, their blades flashing almost as fast as the eye could see. I swung my sword in between them, and their daggers clashed against it. Majorlaine lashed out, and searing pain blossomed on my face. I staggered backwards, clutching my face. Blood was rapidly obscuring my vision. I opened my good eye in time to see Leliana block a slash meant for me. The three of us stepped away for a moment.

"We'll do this together," I panted, a hand over my right eye. "Like at Redcliffe, remember?"

Leliana nodded. The two of us attacked. I could barely see, swinging my sword clumsily, but it didn't matter. Any time Majorlaine blocked one of my strikes Leliana was there to press the attack. We were slowly pushing Majorlaine back. Leliana managed to cut her across the side, and again on the arm. Majorlaine was good – better than Leliana, certainly – but she was no match for the two of us. Leliana ended it with a kick that floored her. The Orlesian spy was sprawled on the ground, defeated.

"Go ahead," she spat. "Do it. Kill me."

"Leliana left that life behind," I panted. "You should too."

"You are _pathetic_, Majorlaine," Leliana said. "I am glad I am free of you."

"So no – we won't kill you," I pointed my sword at her. "You will leave her alone forever. Don't forget – she's friends with the Wardens."

"Such nobility in victory," Majorlaine sneered. "One would almost forget you are an abomination."

I turned away. Leliana and I looked at each other awkwardly.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Ven-" Leliana started.

"You know... I hear Grey Wardens can parry an arrow in flight."

I knew what she was about to do before I even finished turning, but I was too slow to do anything about it. Leliana and I turned in unison. Majorlaine had crawled away, and was now holding one of the dead men's crossbow. It was pointed at me.

"Let us put that to the test," Majorlaine said, and fired. The pause between quip and firing was only a moment, but it was long enough. I felt myself spin around, and the dull _thud_ of the bolt's impact. Leliana crashed into me, and we both toppled over. I untangled myself from her in time to see Majorlaine run away. I turned back to Leliana, and saw the blood.

There was a crossbow bolt protruding from her side. It was bleeding fast – it seemed to have hit her kidney. She was gasping for air, almost unable to move from the pain.

"No," I whispered. "Why?"

She tried to respond, but only a strangled wheeze came out. I looked around, desperate for someone, anyone, to help us.

"HELP!" I yelled.

There was a rush of air, and a flurry of feathers. Morrigan appeared as black feathers floated to earth around her.

"Ventus, _finally_ I have found you-" Morrigan began, but saw Leliana.

"Help- help me get her to the others," I managed to choke out.

"She does not have long," Morrigan said. "We should no-"

"Just _HELP_ me!" I shouted. There was a short, stunned silence. Morrigan didn't respond, but there was another rush of air as she shape shifted again. A large black bear with her pale yellow eyes stood where she had seconds before. I slid my hands under Leliana's body and hauled her up. I shouldn't have been able to lift a grown woman like that, but I managed it. I draped her over Morrigan's bear form, and we set off. I tried to move fast, but my injuries were rapidly catching up with me. I was staggering, leaving a trail of blood behind me. But Leliana was bleeding more.

I have to keep walking... I have to.

I'm feeling faint. I can barely see. But I have to keep going...

I have no idea how long we walked. All I know is that we eventually came across the rest of the group. At that instant my legs finally gave out. Without my supporting hand Leliana slid off Morrigan as well. Morrigan turned back into a human.

"What happened?" Elisa asked.

"Leliana..." I managed. "Wynne... help..."

Wynne crouched over Leliana, her hands hovering over the crossbow wound.

"I'm sorry, but... she is too far gone," Wynne said, her voice filled with regret. "She has lost too much blood."

"Can't you _try_?" I pleaded.

"I could, but I would kill myself in the attempt," the old mage replied. "I am not that powerful."

Here I am, powerless again. Here I am, thinking I've caused Leliana's death again. I just stare. I just watch as Leliana bleeds out on the ground.

No.

Not again.

I dropped my sword and placed my hands around the wound. I closed my eyes and slowly exhaled.

"Ventus, you-" Morrigan started.

"Morrigan, help me," I cut her off. _"Please._"

She didn't respond. I felt her hand touch mine. I could imagine her energy flowing into me through that contact. It made me feel powerful. I knew I could do it. I felt my own energy welling up inside me, and I pushed it out as hard as I could. I felt the warmth, just like when I healed Morrigan. I felt the power buzz around Leliana. For just one second I could see her wound, see it being healed. Then the power faded. I felt the world recede as I fell.

* * *

_I return to that platform floating in space. I remember it this time. This time I notice the changes in the mural much more quickly. The darkness has spread again, its dark tendrils spread all across the image. This time I notice three darkened portraits, and I am unable to recognize the women displayed in them. I see the first has 'VI' etched below it, with 'The Lovers' below that. Below the second is 'XVIII' and 'The Moon'. Below the third is 'VIII' and 'Justice'._

_I turn, and see the door again. The door is less secure now – only half the chains and locks it had before are still secure. It has more slack to move, and it strains against the chains angrily. The threatening red light is much clearer._

She grows stronger.

_For the first time, I manage to speak._

"_What happened when I was asleep?"_

Your defences are weakened. She took control of you.

"_But what can I do?" I ask. "I can't beat a demon."_

You are right. You are too weak to defeat her alone.

_Before I could ask anymore, I felt myself begin to wake up.

* * *

_

I woke up with a splitting headache. I was in my tent, which was odd. I crawled out, and saw I was at the party camp. My wounds twinged, but seemed to have healed partially. Elisa was nearby, and she perked up when she saw me.

"Ven! Back in the land of the living, I see!" she said.

"I feel like I'm dead," I winced.

"We thought you were," Elisa admitted. "You were out for three days."

"I-what? Three days?" I squeaked.

"You tried to heal someone that was almost dead," the Warden pointed out. "Wynne's amazed you're even alive. You even managed to knock Morrigan out with your little stunt. You can thank Wynne for the fact you still have your eye, by the way."

"Wait, is Leliana alive?" I asked.

"Ask her yourself."

I turned. Leliana was standing behind me. She rushed at me and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. I was frozen in shock, my arms splayed out awkwardly. After a pregnant pause I returned the hug.

"I thought you were dead," she said.

"Yeah, I've been getting that."

"I can't believe everything that happened-"

"Yeah, what _did_ happen?" I asked. "I missed the first half. I... I don't know what happened."

"Majorlaine tracked me down," Leliana explained, "She had more men than I would have expected – she was contracted to assassinate the Wardens as well. They attacked the inn while we were asleep. They managed to separate us, and the men caused a distraction that drew Elisa and the others away. They cornered me, but then... you appeared. You... you killed them all with your bare hands. Then you just stood there. I was afraid, so I ran."

"I... I thought I'd killed you," I admitted.

"I thought you would. But you didn't. You saved me."

Leliana looked away, "But I can't stop thinking about what Majorlaine said. About how I enjoyed the intruge... I keep wondering if she was right."

"Then don't. You're a good person, Leliana. One of the best I know."

"That's just it. It was all an act; all to escape her. When you let her go... I wanted so much to kill her. I feel like I'm slipping..." she said, her voice full of confusion and self-doubt. "Why didn't you kill her?"

"I killed thirteen men that night," I said quietly, still barely able to accept it. "Five while I was conscious. But... that was self-defence. There was no other way. With Majorlaine, she was beaten. Defenceless. I would never kill someone when I had any other option. The thought of it just... makes me sick."

Now it was my turn to look away. "I can fight darkspawn – don't doubt that. But humans? I don't... want to be that person. The kind of person that can make orphans and widows and still sleep at night."

"Then... you are a better person than I am."

"No I'm not!" Leliana was stunned by my sudden outburst. "Leliana, it wasn't my decision to let her live. You _chose_ to let her go – and when you had another reason, you _chose_ to save me rather than get revenge. That wasn't an act. You are a _good person_."

She hugged me again.

Leliana looked into my eyes. "I've been so horrible. All this time, I've been blaming you for something you never had a choice in. And... you saved me, despite the risk. Thank you, Ven. All I can say is thank you."

I smiled. Leliana smiled too, and in that moment everything was right. For just a moment, I felt optimistic about my situation.

* * *

_xoOox_

_Thou art I... And I am thou..._

_The bond thou hast nurtured hath finally matured._

_The innermost power of the Moon Arcana hath been set free._

_You have forged a bond that cannot be broken._


	14. Chapter 13: Welcome to the Jungle

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; testing the limits of his skill and powers, Ven managed to save Leliana from her past. Now the party heads to the Brecilian Forest to recruit the Dalish Elves.

* * *

_

I decided the first order of business was to see Morrigan. Truth be told I was worried about her – until Elisa brought it up I hadn't thought about what I'd done to her. She seemed fine when I saw her, which was a relief.

"Would you mind explaining yourself?" she demanded. Yep, she's fine.

"About what happened? Your guess is as good as mine."

"As far as I can tell you... used my powers somehow," Morrigan said. "Are you going to make this 'dramatic healing' thing a habit?"

"I'd rather stop causing the injuries in the first place," I pointed out. This made her pause. She seemed uninterested in continuing the conversation, so I turned to leave.

"Oh..." I stopped. "Thank you, by the way. For helping me."

Morrigan didn't respond. I sighed and dropped it. Getting anywhere with Morrigan is so impossible I'm likely to tear fabric of the universe if I try. Unfortunately I wasn't catching any breaks – I was accosted by Wynne after about five steps.

"Ventus, may I have a word?" the old mage asked.

"Is this about what happened in Denerim?" I asked wearily.

"Well, yes. I was wondering-"

"I don't remember anything," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I fell asleep and woke up outside my room. Ask Sten."

"I did," Wynne replied. "It was a chaotic time – we were scattered by the time we made it out of the inn. Sten tells me you... ah-"

"Wynne, at this point I doubt you can shock me," I said, depressingly matter-of-fact.

"You broke the neck of the first man to enter, threw his body out the window and left the same way," Wynne finished. I sighed.

"I know what you're getting at. _No, _I don't know why specifically then the demon took control of me. I don't even know if it'll happen again tonight," my voice wavered a little.

"Perhaps we could ask the Circle for help, like we did with Connor," Wynne tried.

"Don't bother. This one... the one inside Connor was her _servant_," I said. "Which means I can't for the life of me work out why she's so interested in me! I mean, I can't do any proper magic without using this."

I indicated the shoulder plate. "So why hasn't she just left?"

"I cannot say," Wynne shrugged. "Perhaps she feels the same way as you. Perhaps she wonders how you have resisted her for so long. Maybe it is a matter of pride, to be contained by a 'weak' mage."

"She's a desire demon," I corrected her sullenly. "But she seems about as strong as a pride demon."

Wynne rested her hand on my shoulder. "We will find a way out of this, Ventus. Trust me."

I didn't dream that night – which was a relief now, all things considered. We continued our trek towards the Brecilian Forest, making good time. As far as I could tell Alistair and Zevran didn't actually know I'd been controlled by the demon, which was another relief. The last thing I needed was another reason for Alistair to distrust me. It was especially infuriating considering we'd been friends before the Circle. In others news, Elisa started having training sessions with Leliana. I had no idea what went on in them – neither of them would tell – but they all ended with Elisa bruised and Leliana looking apologetic.

Speaking of training, I kept the bastard sword I'd stolen during the night and had begun training with it. It was to be my new weapon of choice, what with losing my shield during Zevran's ambush and neglecting to buy a new one in Denerim. I still kept the Green Blade for its enchantments... not that I knew what they were. After a quick costume reboot I ended up wearing both swords slung across my back, the bastard sword hanging by my right shoulder and the Green Blade by my left. Of course, once I thought about the completed product I couldn't help but make a lame reference.

"I'm a Witcher," I growled in a Batman-esque voice. "Once I give you twenty Dire Bear asses I wish to sex up your village's entire female population. Then I want dirty playing cards of them. No, don't ask why."

"Talking to yourself again?" Elisa asked.

"Me acting crazy? When has that been surprising?" I asked.

"True. You know I've been thinking about what Leliana told me Majorlaine said," the Warden said, half to herself. "Why would people think Grey Wardens can parry arrows?"

"They're super soldiers that kill dragons," I pointed out. "I'm surprised people don't think you can fly."

"We _could_, but all the griffons are gone," the young Warden sighed. "Still, it's a nice idea. I can't think of a better demoralization tactic than someone parrying your arrows."

And so we kept travelling. We soon entered the forest outskirts, open countryside giving way to forest that grew thicker with each passing step. I was walking near the front of the party near Elisa. I had no idea where we were going – it didn't seem clear how we would find a group of nomads in an unmapped forest. It was getting dark fast. Elisa started talking to alleviate the boredom.

"Alrighty then Ven," she said. "It's time to play 'How Not to be Seen'. There are thirty Antivan Crows in this picture. Find them all."

"You are forgetting the most important one!" Zevran called from the back of the party. I looked back at him and grinned.

"Who could forget you?" I asked. I turned back, and found myself a mere inch from a shining arrowhead. It was fitted on a taunt bowstring, which was part of a bow being held by a rather miffed-looking elf woman.

"Meep," I said.

"You have much to learn of stealth, shem," she said to Elisa, "This one breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

I heard the sound of many bowstrings being drawn. I knew without turning around that the party was surrounded. I sneaked a glance to the side, and saw Elisa was unperturbed.

"Really? I'll keep that in mind next time," she said pleasantly. "We'll discuss it at your camp, if you don't mind."

"You have some gall," the elf sneered. "Give my archers one reason to let you live."

Elisa nonchalantly blew a bang of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. "Let me guess – you have a problem that needs solving by a Grey Warden."

That gave the elf pause. Elisa followed up by producing the Dalish treaty. The elf woman leaned in to inspect it.

"My... apologies, Warden," she said finally. "I am Mithra."

"I am Elisa Cousland. Take me to your leader."

Mithra waved to her archers. They lowered their bows, slowly releasing the tension of the bowstrings and replacing arrows in quivers. All, that is, except one. I heard a few murmured words and turned. Zevran was whispering to another elf, a mischievous grin on his face. The sentry was enraptured. Her eyes slowly closed, and she and Zevran moved closer-

"Zevran!" Elisa cut in. "Really?"

Zevran looked mildly annoyed and the sentry jerked back, turning away to hide her blush. Elisa and Mithra rolled their eyes almost in unison. Zevran muttered something to the sentry that sounded suspiciously like 'meet me tonight', and we moved off towards the Dalish encampment. I didn't have any other Dalish encampments to compare it too, but it didn't look good. There seemed to be too few people out and about, and there was a hopeless atmosphere to the place.

"The Dalish are a little... different from what I had imagined," Zevran remarked.

"Well, they've been under attack from a superior force for a while now," Elisa replied. The Antivan looked quizzical.

"Look at the sentries," the Warden indicated around the campsite. "There aren't enough people for the amount of tents. Even then all the fighters are sentries. Everyone looks exhausted."

"So we're three for three on allies needing help," I said.

"Hopefully Malcolm's having an easier time."

"Yes, I'm sure he's having a fun time with the back-stabbing politics and rigid caste system of the dwarves," I remarked.

"Point taken."

We reached the clan's Keeper, Zathrian. He too looked like he had in the game. He stepped forward to greet the Warden, looking exhausted.

"We are fortune indeed to have a Grey Warden's aid," he said.

"I need details. What's been happening?" Elisa asked.

"Our people are under attack, day and night," he explained. "Werewolves have come to the forest, bearing their curse. Each day more of us are infected, begin to turn. We do all we can, but our best hunters are affected."

"And with all of them cursed you can't help with the Blight," Elisa finished for him. "What can we do?"

"The werewolves are led by a white wolf named Witherfang," Zathrian said. "He is the source of this curse. Find him and bring me his heart, and I may be able to find a cure."

_Coughbullshitcough,_ I thought.

"And if any one of us is bitten?" the Warden asked.

"Pray you can find Witherfang before the curse overtakes you," was all the elf could say.

"Well... it's almost nightfall," the Warden decided. "For now, we'll stay here and help guard the camp. If the wolves come tonight, hopefully we'll prevent any more being cursed. Maybe Witherfang will come."

"_Another_ desperate night-time defence?" Alistair commented once we moved off.

"Hopefully Ventus will not burn _this_ settlement down," Sten replied. I fumed, but stayed silent.

"You know the drill. Set up camp, take position with the sentries. And remember – fight carefully. These things bite you and it's over," Elisa ordered. We did as we were told, working quickly as night fell. We went to our tents to get some rest with our weapons close by, but it felt like barely a minute had passed before Leliana came to wake me up for my shift. I stowed my complaints and walked through the cold night to my post, clutching my sheathed bastard sword.

This may shock you, but sitting around at night in a forest alone where wolfmen could jump out of nowhere to tear your nipples off at the drop of a hat isn't exactly good for the soul – and as embarrassing as it is to admit, I wasn't exactly a fan of the dark anyway. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a werewolf, every shadow seemed like an enemy.

I feel so tired. Why am I so tired? Maybe I should rest my eyes a little. There are plenty of elves keeping watch, right? I'll just close my eyes for a second...

* * *

_I'm lying in a bed. It feels soft, warm and comfortable. My eyes are closed. I'm in that brief period of complete contentment that comes just after a good night's sleep. I hear footsteps approaching my bed. Is it one of my parents?_

"_Patient's coma is approaching the third month."_

_No._

"_So far no signs of movement, no pain reactions either._

_No no no._

"_Let's see if that's changed."_

_I feel someone pull my eyelid back with a finger. I see a doctor holding a small penlight. He flashes it across my eye. The light sears me, shoot straight to the back of my brain like a lance, but I stare into it unblinkingly. I struggle to look away, to close my eyes. Nothing. _

_The doctor does the same with my other eye and tucks the penlight away. _

"_Anything else I should know?" he asks. _

_Come on. Move an arm, a leg. Wiggle a toe. This can't be happening to me. I can't..._

"_There was an unexplained spike in brain activity," the nurse replies. "That was a month ago."_

"_Visits scheduled?" the doctor asks. I hear the scribble of his pen on his chart. _

"_Not for today."_

_There is a short pause. "Poor kid."_

_I struggle and fight as I hear the two walk away. Every muscle, every nerve, every neuron in my brain is screaming for release simultaneously. I want to yell, tell them that I'm still alive. In that instant, my desperation is all-powerful. I would give anything, _anything, _for a way back home. _

"_You can never get home."_

My eyes open. The hospital is changed. I'm in a different room, darker somehow. I find I can move again. A feeling of elation is replaced by horror. Thick leather straps bind me down, leaving me almost incapable of movement. I thrash and struggle as hard as I can, but I budge barely an inch. The doctor and nurse are standing over me.

"What the hell are you doing? Where am I?" I yell.

"Patient has been experiencing violent delusions," the doctor is muttering to the nurse. "That's why I suggested the electroshock therapy."

"Let me go! Let me go!" I shriek.

"How many times do you have to be told?" the frustrated doctor snaps. "You're a danger! Maybe if you let go of these childish fantasies we could treat you!"

"Ok!" I'm s on the verge of frustrated tears by this point, "Just let me go!"

"You have to admit it was all a fantasy," he says urgently. "These people you talk about; Elisa, Leliana, Morrigan – let them go."

"I..."

_Thou art I... And I am thou..._

"I..."

"_You promised me."_

My head snaps towards the noise. _A shadowy figure looms over me, ready to engulf me. One hand holds a surgical needle._

"_Cross my heart and hope to die..."_

_It raises the object into the air._

"_Stick a needle in my EYE!"_

_The needle plummets down. I scream.

* * *

_

I shot upright, panting. My body was covered in sheets of sweat, and my heart was pounding like a set of drums. I tried to control my breathing, wiping a hand across my forehead.

"Just a nightmare," I breathed to myself. "Just a goddamn nightmare."

But the nightmare wasn't over. I held up my hand. The clawed gauntlet was stained with blood again. My heart quickened pace again, and I cast my eyes around for my newest victims. I found it.

It was a werewolf. The body was covered in shaggy gray fur, bloodstained in places. It must have stood about eight feet tall, and had been covered in corded muscle. The claws alone looked just as sharp as mine.

The head, by contrast, was several feet away. Right at my feet. I cried out in surprise and jumped to my feet, recoiling. It was then I realized another fact with a sense of dread. I'd sleepwalked away from my post. The others wouldn't have known about the attack! I looked around for some sign of a way back to the camp. I heard shouts. The camp was under attack.

Not again. Please for the love of God don't let this happen again, I prayed. I raced back to the camp as fast as my feet could carry me, bastard sword bared and ready for combat. I heard arrows whistling through the air and the cries of the wounded. When I got back several torches had been lit, giving light to the defenders. The first member of the party I saw was Wynne. A werewolf leaped at her, and I opened my mouth to cry out. She saw it too, and a stream of cold poured from her staff. The werewolf froze solid before it even reached her. Wynne sidestepped and the creature shattered across the ground.

"Wynne! Where is everyone?" I called.

"Spread across the camp!" Wynne replied. "Head to the other side, the attack is thickest there!"

I ran. I narrowly missed tripping on a dying Dalish archer, then turned a corner and came face-to-face with a werewolf. I stopped dead in my tracks, paralysed with fear. The wolf snarled, flexing its claws. I held up my sword in a fake display of bravado. The creature wasn't fooled for a second, and it leaped.

I hurled myself to the side, sprawling painfully face-first on the dirt. I rolled to the side as the wolf's powerful foot came down where I had been, throwing up dust and leaving a deep imprint in the ground. I hauled my sword around, too slow, too clumsy. It left a slash across the wolf's chest, but it barely grunted. I frantically kicked up, buying just enough time to scramble to my feet.

The werewolf roared a challenge. I swung desperately. It sidestepped the chop and clamped its jaws down on my hand. Its fangs didn't pierce my bound armour, but the mere pressure was enough to make my bones creak. I cried out in pain. The creature wrenched the sword away and kicked me hard in the stomach. I must have flown two feet.

I coughed, barely able to breathe. I was sure something had broken. I heard the wolf behind me, stalking closer, coming in for the kill. I rolled over, and saw I was just outside my tent. The Green Blade lay sheathed beside me, just out of reach. I reached for it, slowly, painfully. The werewolf drew closer. I grasped the hilt with my fingertips and dragged it towards me. I heard the snarl, could practically see the bite that would end it.

I drew the sword and rolled over with a wild slash. It left a cut across the wolf's outstretched hand. It let out a piercing howl of pain and recoiled. I scrambled to my feet, sword raised. It tried to swipe me with its claws using its other hand. I dodged away and slashed in retaliation. Again the creature howled and recoiled. Why? Why was this sword doing this when...

"This sword is for monsters," I said to myself. In a moment of suicidal bravado I charged the wolf and thrust the Green Blade through its chest. It managed only half a strangled howl before pitching over dead. I withdrew the enchanted sword and panted in triumph.

"Marvellous," Morrigans voice came from behind me. "Now kill the other six."

I whirled. Morrigan was backing towards me, staff held high. She was inscribing trails of fire across the ground, keeping the pack of werewolves away from her. But her strength was fading, and they were growing braver. I raced to her side.

"Any ideas?" she asked.

"Just one," I replied, holding out the Green Blade. "Light it."

"The last time you said that-"

"Forget about last time!" I squeaked. Moments later magical flames sprung to life on the blade. I turned to the werewolves and waved the flaming sword at them, yelling. Then something unexpected happened. The flames turned green. I stared at the sword for a moment, stunned, and the werewolves did the same. I shook myself out of the reverie and lunged aggressively. The wolves backed away, snarling. They turned and, with a final parting growl, left. I let out an exhausted sigh of relief and lowered the sword. The magical flames went out.

"That was odd," Morrigan commented. "It seems the rest of the wolves are retreating as well."

"Of course they are," I said. "They've infected more people. Raids only get easier and easier, so why bother sticking around?"

"We should see how our companions have fared," Morrigan decided.

At that moment two elves emerged from the forest. One was Zevran, sans shirt and buckling his belt. The other was the elf sentry, naked save for Zevran's tunic. She was frantically pulling the hem down to cover herself, her face burning so strongly with shame her tattoos were turning red. Zevran looked around, confused.

"Did I miss something?" he asked. I burst out laughing.

By morning, we had finished clearing up. The elf dead were buried in the Dalish custom. The wolves were unceremoniously hurled into a ditch. We had killed many, but more elves than werewolves had died or been infected. Zathrian sighed angrily when he heard this news. Later, Alistair appeared.

"Has anybody seen Elisa?" he asked. That was when we realized Elisa had been missing since the attack. We searched frantically for any sign of her, dead or otherwise. Most Dalish only remembered her in passing. One said he had seen her last. We found him putting the last dead werewolves in the mass grave.

"It was during the first wave," he said. "It was just the two of us, before the alarm had been sounded. Four wolves came for us at once. She told me to leave and sound the alarm. You have to understand – it is hard to say no to her-"

"Just tell us what happened!" Alistair exclaimed.

"She was pulled to the ground by the wolves," he finished. "I have not seen her since."

"No," Alistair said, shaking his head. "No, she's alive. Keep searching!"

"Alistair, think about this-" Wynne started.

"NO!" the templar shouted. "Elisa! Elisa!"

There was a muffled noise. All heads turned to find it. There was another muffled sound, louder this time. Attention was drawn to the grave as a dead werewolf shifted. An armoured hand burst out of the pile. The hole widened slightly, and an angry voice was heard.

"Let me out you bastards!" Elisa yelled. "It smells like a wet dog in a latrine down here!"

Alistair leaped down into the grave and hauled the dead wolves aside. Elisa was gradually revealed, and before long the Warden was being pulled out of the pile. We helped Alistair pull her up out of the hole and she lay on the grass, exhausted.

"I thought I'd have to stay here all day," she grunted. Elisa sat up and winced.

"Can someone check my wounds?" she asked. Nobody responded.

"Alistair, what's going on?" she asked. Alistair cleared his throat.

"Do you feel alright?" he asked.

"No, I spent the night under a pile of corpses, and I've been wounded. Why?" Elisa snapped.

"Because... your eyes are yellow."

Elisa was blank for a moment. Someone handed her a small mirror, and she inspected herself for a moment. Her irises, no longer dark brown, were a yellow paler than Morrigan's. Elisa made the connection quickly, and tore a loose, damaged pauldron from her chainmail. Alistair undid the laces of the armour and helped her take it off. There in the sweaty undertunic was a bloody wound in the shape of a wolf bite.

"This is going to ruin my whole day," Elisa wavered. Then she passed out.


	15. Chapter 14: VIII Justice

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; the party helped defend the Dalish encampment from a werewolf attack. However, their leader Elisa was infected during the battle. Can they save her in time?

* * *

_

Alistair rushed Elisa to the nearest healer's tent. Her armour and equipment were removed and she was laid out on a bedroll. By now she was completely drenched in sweat. Her grubby tunic stuck to skin so pale her tattoos stood out intensely. Alistair tried giving her water, but her feverish thrashing spilled it. Barkspawn was standing at her side, whining and pawing at her. Most of us were being treated for our own wounds. Zathrian was standing over her, eyes closed in concentration.

"She is strong, but the curse is stronger," he said sadly.

"Can't you do anything?" Alistair pleaded.

"I can slow the transformation, but not stop it," Zathrian explained. "Even that may not be enough."

"What do you mean?"

"The curse has... changed within her," the elf said. "For most the transformation takes days, or weeks. For her-"

"How long?"

"... She may not last past sunset."

Alistair looked blank. It seemed to take him a while to realize what had just been said. He looked back down at the barely conscious Elisa.

"Wait!" Leliana exclaimed. "Ven, heal her like you did with me!"

"But I don't know if I can do that again!" I said. "It's like-"

"Please try!" Alistair implored. The look in his eyes was all the encouragement I needed. I nodded, and crouched by the Warden. I placed my hands on her shoulder around the wound – she was burning up. I screwed my eyes up tight, brow furrowed in concentration. I searched for the power I'd felt with Morrigan and Leliana. I tried as hard as I could, dug as deep as I was able.

Nothing.

"I... I can't..." I slumped back. Utter hopelessness crashed over Alistair, and his chin dropped to his chest. He still hadn't let go of Elisa. The tent was silent for a long time.

"You can still save her," Zathrian prompted. "With Witherfang's heart I can cure all those infected – including the Warden." Or you could end the curse now, you sick asshole.

"Then I'm going," Alistair said. "We leave as soon as we can. Can you give us any clues as to where we'll find Witherfang?"

He glanced at Morrigan. "Go ahead – get your snippy little comments out of the way so we can get something done."

"I have none," Morrigan replied coolly. "Contrary to your beliefs you are not the only person in Ferelden to care for her well-being."

"I don't think we should all go," Wynne said. "If the wolves attack again while you are away, the trip will be for naught."

"I would rather watch over my _kadan_ if possible," Sten commented.

"Ok... alright," the young Warden said. "The two of you will stay here with Zevran and the dog. The rest of us will go after Witherfang."

It was surprising, really. Alistair was rising to the challenge with barely a moment's pause. Maybe he really was a born king – or maybe he had something important to fight for. We were provided a rather detailed map of the forest by a hunter, and a ruined area had been circled as a possible source of werewolves. Alistair's eyes flicked erratically over the map as he took in the details.

"Damn!" he growled, the map crinkling in his grip. "We'll never make it in time on foot."

"Perhaps you can." We turned, and saw an elderly Dalish approach us. "I am Elora, keeper of the halla. They may bear you swiftly enough to save your commander."

"Good, let's go," Alistair said hurriedly.

"Halla are not like horses," the keeper went on. "They will go where they wish-"

"Alistair." The word was an enfeebled croak. Alistair immediately turned towards the source. It was Elisa, outside of her tent. Wynne was attempting to wrestle the woman back onto her bedroll, but even laid low like this she was strong. Alistair raced to her side, and she collapsed against him.

"Where're you going?" she mumbled.

"I'm going to find Witherfang," he desperately reassured her. "I'm going to help you, ok?"

"I want to come too..." Elisa wheezed.

"It's too dangerous. I'll be _right back_. I promise," Alistair squeezed her hands. Elisa planted a small kiss on his cheek before Sten came to put her back in the tent. Alistair paused for only a moment before returning to the halla. We mounted up awkwardly, without saddles or reins. Elora was busy whispering to the halla, probably telling them where to go. I couldn't help but notice how still Alistair was. It felt like he could see Witherfang, and he wasn't letting him out of his sights.

We set off. The halla were surprisingly swift and strong. They didn't appear to have any problem carrying us, despite our heavy equipment. The trip was silent. There was nothing to discuss. We all knew how important this mission was. This wasn't about stopping the Blight – we were saving our commander.

The halla bore us over the rough terrain of the forest, never pausing in their stride. They may as well have been boats in the open ocean. As we rode, I wracked my brain. I couldn't just let Alistair kill Witherfang. So how do I get Zathrian to end the curse before Elisa turns?

Then we came across three werewolves in our path. The halla stoped so fast they skidded. The one in the middle was larger and had fur a red-brown rust colour, which marked him as Swiftrunner.

"The watch-wolves had spoken truly my brothers and sisters," Swiftrunner snarled. Alistair blinked.

"You can talk?" he blurted out, surprised.

"The Dalish send a human, of all things, to repay us for our attack. What bitter irony," the werewolf went on, ignoring him.

"Why are you doing this?" Alistair demanded. "Why attack the Dalish?"

Swiftrunner growled, a guttural sound that completely bypassed my brain and told my body to stay very still. "Go back to the Dalish. Tell them you have failed. Tell them we will gladly watch them suffer the same curse we have suffered for too long. We will watch them pay!"

Alistair drew his sword. "You cursed someone that I love. That's not a good move with me."

Swiftrunner growled again, and all three werewolves seemed to be assuming an attack position. I drew my own sword, and that gave them pause. It seemed word had spread after the attack last night, and they recoiled from the enchanted sword.

"The forest has eyes and ears of its own, human," Swiftrunner rumbled. "Leave if you value your life." The wolves turned and fled. Alistair sheathed his sword. The halla set off again.

"Something about this doesn't add up," I said.

"I don't think Zathrian told us the whole truth," Leliana agreed. "Alistair, I think we should try to be diplomatic."

"Diplom—_diplomatic_?" Alistair stuttered. "Elisa is turning _right now_."

"Tis no reason to charge forward blindly like some maddened bull," Morrigan remarked. "There is more to the weres than meets the eye. You should learn more of them before acting."

"What if you're wrong?" A hint of pleading desperation in his voice. "What if we delay for nothing and she turns?"

"What if I am right?" Morrigan replied simply. "You would destroy her only chance."

Alistair fell silent for a while. "Ok. We'll try."

* * *

We came to the forest barrier soon after. Of course we tried to ride through it, but rode in a circle and ended up back in front of it. Alistair swore. We decided to look around to see if there was any other way into the ruins. I didn't look forward to dealing with the mad hermit and the rhyming Sylvan, especially with so much riding on our mission. Unfortunately, we soon stumbled across the hermit's camp. He appeared before us with a loud _bang _and a cloud of smoke.

"Aha! 'They' sent you, didn't they?" the mad mage accused.

"We do _not _have time for this," Alistair said.

"Wait," I interjected. "How do we get into the ruins?"

"No, no fair!" the hermit shrieked. "Ask a question, get a question. Give an answer, receive an answer."

"So you'll answer my question if I answer one of yours?"

"Yes I will," the mad hermit replied. "What... is your name?"

Oh dear. More Monty Python? I decided to have a little fun with him. "My name is Ser Isaac of Clarke."

"Aha! Yes, indeed, just as I suspected..." The others were eyeing me, confused. I ignored them.

"How do we get into the ruins?" I asked.

"Need a piece of the Grand Oak, you do," the hermit replied. "Damn Grand Oak, so inconsiderate. Keeps going on about its acorn. Not my fault it didn't take good enough care of it. But it is your turn to answer! What... is your quest?"

"I seek the Urn of Andraste!" I declared. I could practically feel the 'wtf' vibes from the others at this point.

"Hmmm, yes, of course. 'They' would send someone for that..." the hermit muttered to himself.

"So, would the Grand Oak help us get into the ruins if we helped it?" I asked.

"Of course of course!" the hermit replied. "The tree isn't like the others, oh no. Likes _rhyming_. Never trust someone that rhymes. Never trust anyone that thinks in _italics_ either. They should be watched. From a great distance."

_What a loony,_ I thought.

"But it is your turn to answer!" the hermit declared. "What... !"

"Oh for the love of-" Alistair started.

"Orlesian or Ferelden?" I asked.

"... I don't know that," the hermit replied. "BLAST!" And with that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke. There was a very long silence. I walked over to the hermit's tree stump and, using the blade of my sword, finagled the Grand Oak's acorn out of it without getting stabbed by the trap.

"Now let us never speak of that again," I said.

"That's all well and good, but how do we _find_ the Grand Oak?" Alistair asked.

_Ok, let's see if they buy this._ "I can, uh, feel its presence."

"How?"

"Oh, it's the acorn. I think it's telling me where to go," I lied quickly and easily. Stephen Colbert would be most displeased by my lack of truthiness. At this point, though, Alistair didn't really care enough to question it. I racked my brain, and finally remembered the Great Oak's location. I led the others through the forest, occasionally stopping to um and ah, as if listening to the acorn, for effect. We made it to the Grand Oak – or rather, a really big Sylvan.

"Hmmm... what manner of beast be thee," the Oak said, unfolding itself, "That comes before this elder tree?"

"It rhymes," Alistair said flatly. "I- nevermind. I think I just stopped caring."

"We're all human," I said. "And we have the acorn the hermit stole."

"My joy soars to new heights indeed! I am reunited with my seed!" the tree said gleefully, and I handed it the acorn. It reached out with wooden fingers and carefully plucked it out of my grasp.

"What what boon can I grant thee, to have so helped this elder tree?" It asked.

"We have to get into the werewolves' lair," Alistair spoke up. "The hermit said a piece of you would do the trick. Can you spare anything?"

"My wooden skin has magic, true, and part of it I can give to you," the Grand Oak said. It reached up to its leafy boughs and snapped off a branch the size of a quarterstaff. Crouching down it handed the branch to Alistair.

"Keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass through the forest free," the tree said. We turned and went back to the barrier again.

"There's another thing we should just forget about," I said. Alistair nodded in agreement. We approached the barrier again, oak branch in hand. The templar took a deep breath and rode through the portal again. The oak branch glowed briefly and the barrier disappeared. Alistair sighed in relief and we continued. As the ruins came within sight we dismounted and tied the halla to a nearby tree. The four of us followed the path, wary of attack. Suddenly four werewolves came into view. It was Swiftrunner again.

"The forest has not been vigilant enough. Still you come," Swiftrunner snarled. "You are stronger than we anticipated. The Dalish chose well. But you do not belong here, outsider. Leave this place!"

"Then let me help settle this!" Alistair demanded. "I want to end the curse just as much as you do!"

"You are sent by the treacherous Dalish to kill Witherfang!" Swiftrunner retorted. "I will not stand by and allow that to happen!"

"But _why_?" Alistair tried again. "Is he your leader? Explain this to me!"

Swiftrunner growled. "You know nothing about him, and I am not about to enlighten you. You are an intruder in our home! You come to kill, as all your kind do! We have learned this lesson well. Here Witherfang protects us. Here we learn our names and are beloved! We will defend Witherfang and this place with our lives!"

"If that's the way it's going to be," Alistair said, and drew his sword. One of the werewolves charged at him, leaping into the air. Alistair crouched and swung his shield with all his body weight behind it. The wolf yelped and hurtled over Alistair, crashing hard on the ground behind him. He turned to face it. The second went for Leliana. She managed to sink three arrows in it, but it kept coming, blind with rage. I stepped in front of her and hit it with a massive backhand chop with the Green Blade. The elf sword cut deep and the wolf fell dead.

Morrigan set the third wolf alight. It howled and thrashed, fur burning with an intense heat. Swiftrunner shoved it out of the way and lunged at Morrigan. I raced over, but before I could swing my sword the wolf bowled us over. The impact knocked the wind out of me and the sword from my hand. I rolled over and saw Morrigan locked in a struggle with Swiftrunner. The apostate had her staff pressed against the werewolf's chest, the butt set in the ground. Swiftrunner was thrashing and snarling, trying to get to her. Her staff was bending.

"Get off her!" I yelled, and tackled the wolf. It was like running head-first into a brick wall, and I bounced off, head reeling. But it was enough to knock the werewolf over. Morrigan rolled aside, trying to catch her breath. Swiftrunner was on his feet in an instant, and bounded towards me.

"Here!" Leliana called. The Green Blade clattered to the ground at my feet. I scooped it up. Swiftrunner was almost on top of me. I raised the enchanted sword-

Something large and white hit me. I was sent sprawling yet again, coughing. I lifted myself up to get a better look. It was Witherfang. The white wolf barked and growled at me, pale gray eyes fixed on mine. Swiftrunner glanced at the others and retreated with Witherfang.

We set off after them. Alistair was practically sprinting. The wolves were fast, but Morrigan found clear signs from their tracks. Before long we came to the entrance of the ruins, their lair. There were more werewolves standing guard.

"We are invaded!" a sentry called. "Intruders have deceived their way into the heart of the forest! Fall back! Protect the Lady!"

The wolves bounded down into the dark depths of the ruin. We stood at the head top of the stairs looking down into the blackness.

"Tread lightly in the heart of the forest, for past wrongs are remembered and mourned," Leliana intoned.

"Thanks for that," Alistair said. We descended into the ruins. The only light came from a few cracks in the ceiling where sunlight filtered through, and even that was fading. Elisa didn't have long. We quickly searched the first room, sound echoing eerily in the empty space. I found the passageway that led straight to the werewolves' lair. But that door is locked until... you...

"I found something!" I called. I led the others down the long, straight staircase until we reached the door. I tried the door. Pleasepleasepleaseplease – crunch – damn it, locked. Leliana came forward and crouched by the lock. She unhooked a wide, rolled-up piece of leather from her belt and unrolled it. A wide assortment of lockpicks were there in individual pouches. Leliana eyed the lock and selected a few picks. She worked them around in the lock, her face the picture of concentration, her ear to the door. She tried the door – no luck. Leliana bent down to try a different combination-

There was a sound like a thunderclap, and the smell of burning. A hole had been burned clean through the lock, rapidly-cooling molten metal dripping from the wound. Morrigan blew some smoke from the tip of her staff.

"Forgive me," she said, "I was under the impression we were to be successful _before_ Elisa died of old age."

"I was almost done," Leliana replied in a frustrated tone, rolling up her lock picks.

"No offence, but we probably should have thought of that sooner," Alistair commented.

We went through the door. Straight into a room full of werewolves. They noticed our arrival almost instantly, and got ready to fight. We drew our weapons as well.

"Wait, stop!" Alistair said suddenly. "I'm sick of this – is there someone we can talk to?"

"Calm, brothers and sisters," one of the werewolves said. "We do not wish to see any more of our people hurt. I ask you this now, outsider: are you willing to parlay?"

"_YES_," Alistair exclaimed. "I've tried twice now. Can somebody explain this to me, pretty please?"

"You must promise not to harm the Lady," the werewolf said.

"Yes yes yes, we don't have a lot of time. Tell me what I have to do and I'll do it," the templar agreed.

"Follow me. But I warn you, if you break your promise and harm her, I will come back from the Fade itself to see you pay," the wolf threatened.

"Charming," Alistair said flatly.

We arrived at the inner sanctum. There were werewolves all around us, and Swiftrunner stood in the centre of the room. He and many other werewolves were snarling and roaring, making their displeasure clear. The Lady of the Forest came into view, and within moments the wolves were calm. She was mesmerizing, from her deep black eyes from the way the air seemed to shimmer about her. The slender branches of wood wrapped around her seemed to be a part of her.

"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest," she said. Her voice seemed to echo while she spoke, but the echo came before the speech.

"Do not listen to them, Lady!" Swiftrunner protested, "We must attack now."

The Lady calmed the wolf and turned back to us. "I apologize for Swiftrunner. He struggles with his nature."

"Then... you lead the werewolves?" Alistair asked.

"I have helped many, and they are grateful. I offer guidance, but I do not command," the Lady replied. "No doubt you have questions – things Zathrian has not told you."

"I know that – I've just been trying to get people to _explain_ for a while now," Alistair said, looking pointedly at Swiftrunner. "What's the big secret?"

"It was Zathrian who created the curse these creatures suffer, the same curse that Zathrian's own people now suffer," the Lady explained. We were told the full story; centuries ago Zathrian had lived with two children, a son and a daughter. They had been kidnapped by humans while hunting. The son was tortured and killed. The daughter was raped, and killed herself when she found she was pregnant. Alistair and Leliana looked downright horrified, and even Morrigan looked disturbed.

"That's... appalling! They deserved what they got!" Alistair said.

"Indeed they did," the Lady looked saddened as she said this.

"Zathrian came to this ruin and summoned a great spirit, binding it in the body of a wolf. So Witherfang came to be," Swiftrunner went on. "Witherfang hunted the humans of the tribe. Many were killed, but others were cursed by his blood, becoming twisted and savage creatures..."

The Lady explained more of the story; how the humans moved on, leaving the cursed behind. How Swiftrunner had found her, how she'd brought out his humanity, and how he'd found others.

"Then why attack the Dalish? Revenge?" Alistair asked.

"In part," the Lady agreed. "We seek an end to the curse. The crimes committed were grave, but committed centuries ago by those long dead. Word was sent each time his clan passed this way, but we have been ignored. We will not be denied."

"We spread the curse to his people! So he must end the curse to save them!" Swiftrunner added.

"Well that was a mistake," Alistair said through gritted teeth, "Because you cursed the wrong woman."

Swiftrunner lunged aggressively, roaring. Alistair's sword came a few inches out of its sheath. The Lady held Swiftrunner back, and held up a hand to Alistair.

"Please, calm," she said. "This will not save her. Go to Zathrian, bring him here. If he sees us, hears our plight... maybe he will end the curse."

"Oh, he _will_ end it," Alistair said darkly. We turned and left the way we came. I couldn't see Alistair's face, but I could tell how angry he was. I shared his anger. We were going to get Zathrian to end the curse, one way or another.

* * *

And what luck, we found him in the entrance room!

"Ah, and here you are already," he said.

"Ooh, how fortunate to see _you_ here!" Alistair said with faux enthusiasm. "Here to make super-sure I did your dirty-work for you?"

"Don't play games with me," Zathrian said. "Do you have the heart?"

"No," Alistair advanced on the elf. "What I _do_ have is a whole load of werewolves that would _love_ a chat with you. And then you're going to break the curse."

"What? No!" the elf declared. "They are savage beasts that deserve their existence. I will do nothing to help them."

"You know what _really_ confuses me?" Alistair asked rhetorically, still walking towards him. "How can any anger last _that_ long?"

"You were not there, shem," Zathrian spat. "You did not see what they did to my son, my daughter, so many others!"

"Those crimes were committed _centuries_ ago!" Alistair shot back. "By people that are dead!"

"Tell me," Zathrian sneered. "If you held your own daughter's lifeless body in your arms, would you not also have sworn an eternity of pain on those who did such to her?"

"No," Alistair said. Now he was standing right in front of Zathrian, and I noticed just how much taller he was than the elf. "But I have held the woman I love most in the world in my arms as she changed into a monster, unable to help her. Now I know the man who stood by me and told me there was nothing he could do was the man that caused the curse. Now that man stands right in front of me. And right now? I'm strongly considering that 'eternity of pain'."

Zathrian hurled a lightning bolt. It struck Alistair square in the chest and crackled about his body. The young Warden grunted, but barely even flinched. The lightning fizzled out, leaving Zathrian staring open-mouthed.

"Templar..." he said.

"You got it," Alistair said, and punched him.

Zathrian hit the ground hard. His cheek was split open where Alistair's gauntleted fist had landed. He groaned and rubbed his jaw. Alistair hauled him back up to his feet.

"That didn't help," Leliana said.

"No," Alistair admitted, "But it felt good."

We marched Zathrian back down to the inner sanctum. His arrival was met with about as much enthusiasm as would be expected. The Lady stood and waited for him to approach her. He stood with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Spirit," he said shortly. An instant later Swiftrunner was nose-to-nose with him.

"She is the Lady of the Forest! You will address her properly!" Swiftrunner roared.

"You've taken a name, spirit? And you've given names to your pets? These... beasts who follow you?" the elf remarked.

"It was they who gave me a name, Zathrian – and the names they take are their own," the Lady replied. "They follow me because I help them to find who they are."

"_Who_ they are has not changed from who their ancestors were," Zathrian argued. "Wild savages! Worthless dogs! Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!"

"It is as I warned you! He is not here to talk!" Swiftrunner growled.

"No, I am here to talk, though I see little point in it," Zathrian sneered. "We all know where this will lead. Your nature compels it, as does mine."

"It does not have to be that way," the Lady pleaded, approaching him. "There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely your retribution is spent."

"My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, no more."

"Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse? Have you told the mortal how it was created?"

"Blood magic," I said.

"Correct," the lady said. "Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true. So long as the curse exists, so do you."

"No, that is not how it is!" Zathrian protested weakly.

"Would killing him end the curse?" Alistair asked.

"No. The curse has a life of its own, though his life depends on it. His death plays a part in its ending, however," the Lady explained.

"Then we kill him! Tear him apart now!" Swiftrunner said gleefully.

"For all your powers of speech, you are beasts still!" Zathrian spat. "What would you gain from killing me? Only I know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!"

"You see? We must kill them all!" Swiftrunner roared.

"See?" Zathrian said desperately, turning to Alistair. "They turn on you as quickly. Do what you have come here to do, Warden, or get out of my way."

"I came here to get the curse ended," Alistair retorted. "You're out of luck."

"Then you die with them!" he snarled, backing away and unslinging his staff, "All of you will suffer as you deserve!"

The Lady turned into Witherfang, but it was too late. Zathrian cast a spell, and I felt the magic like a buzzing in my teeth. Witherfang, Swiftrunner and the rest of the wolves were paralysed. Without pausing for breath, Zathrian cast another spell. Three trees in the room came to life, turned to Sylvans. Alistair hacked at one's leg, but the sword did nothing but chop wood. Leliana's arrows did even less, her arrows sticking shallow in the tough bark. Morrigan managed to accomplish more by setting the third on fire. I tried my hand with the Green Blade, which seemed to do more, but realized something.

"He's getting away!" I yelled. Zathrian was already out the door. He turned and hurled a fireball at the arch. The ruins rumbled, and stones began to fall. I ran as fast and as hard as I could. The archway collapsed, but I made it through just in time. Zathrian was already halfway up the stairs. I chased after the nimble elf, heart pounding and breath ragged.

* * *

I was exhausted by the time I reached the top of the stairs. I pushed myself further, and emerged into the sunset. I was immediately caught full on the chest by a large rock and was knocked on my back. The blow had dented my armour, and now the metal pressed painfully against my lungs.

"You were a fool to face me alone," Zathrian said. He began to cast another spell.

That was when a figure riding a halla came out of nowhere and threw themselves onto him. The rider landed on the elf and flattened him under their weight. I struggled to take off my breastplate, hardly able to breathe. I looked up, and saw who the figure was.

It was Elisa. She stood, slowly, waveringly. She drew one of her swords and held it two-handed, too weak to use both blades. She was panting, exhausted from the ride, and pale as a corpse, but smirking.

"How did you-?" Zathrian spluttered.

"Those halla make great horses," Elisa gasped. "Just have to show them who's boss."

Elisa swung, a big clumsy blow. Zathrian parried it with his staff and countered with a hooking blow. Elisa cried out as it smacked against her side, but she retaliated with an elbow-strike that struck the elf right where Alistair had punched him. I managed to tear my breastplate off and breathed easier. I stood up, just in time to see the end of the fight. Zathrian swung his staff in a big overhead clubbing motion. Elisa raised her sword to block it, but when the staff struck she cried out in pain. Her sword dropped from her hand and she clutched her shoulder. There was fresh blood from the wound. Zathrian hit her in the sternum and she went down.

The exhausted mage picked up Elisa's sword. He stood over her, ready for the final blow. My mind raced, and time seemed to slow. What can I do? I can't get there in time to stop him. I don't know any spells to hold him, and I can't use anything potentially lethal or Elisa will never be cured.

_But I have another power, don't I? _

It was my only option. I took a deep breath, and slid my left gauntlet off. My forearm is bare now. He aims the next strike. My right hand moves over, enclosed in a clawed gauntlet. The sword is raised high.

The claw cuts easily through the skin. Warm blood spills from the wound and dribbles down my arm. I exhale, long and loud. And I feel the power inside me. It feels so strong, and not unlike the plate's power. I slowly extend a hand.

Zathrian stops mid-lunge. A surprised noise escapes him. His muscles have ceased obeying him.

They obey me now.

I move his arm, as easy as a puppeteer tugging a string. Zathrian moves wildly, ungainly, disjointed. The pathetic elf tries to resist. I crush his resistance, so effortlessly it may as well not even have been there. He cries out in pain as I force his knees to bend, for him to bend to my will. He drops to his knees, curled up in pain. With a casual flick I move his arms again. The sword moves now. The deadly blade is pointed at his heart. Zathrian is clutching the blade tight, desperately trying to turn the blade aside. It moves, slowly, inexorably. The point pierces his robe and his skin, only a flesh wound. He cries out in pain, and tries to resist. He can't.

_His will is mine_.

I glance into his mind. It's effortless, like opening a book. Thoughts, emotions, memories pour out. He is old, centuries old. There are memories of his son and daughter – happy times. But these memories are faded, almost gone. All that remains are their faces in death, pale and lifeless. Soon there won't be anything left.

"No."

My hand drops. My hold over Zathrian is gone. He dropped the sword and collapsed to all fours, panting and clutching his chest. I shiver, and back away. What did I just do? I felt... I was going to... What happened to me?

Elisa got back up. She was panting and wheezing. She slowly picked up her sword.

"Elisa!" I called, "We need to keep him alive – he can break the spell."

No response. She stared at Zathrian, gripping her sword tight.

"Elisa?" my voice cracked.

Elisa let out a terrifying scream of rage, facing the setting sun. Her yellow eyes blaze with anger.

"Die," she growled. "He has to die." Then I noticed how sharp her teeth had become. She reached down and grabbed Zathrian's throat, lifting the slender elf easily into the air. His feet dangled above the ground and he scrabbled uselessly at her hand. Her nails were a lot longer and sharper than last I'd seen them.

"Stop!" I yelled helplessly. Elisa drew back her sword to plunge it into the mage.

"Forgive me," I whispered, and extended my hand.

Elisa froze in place, and I reeled. Hatred was boiling inside her like a poison, like magma. It washed over me, so intense that I thought I would fall. She twitched, frozen in place. Her muscles strained against my control. Slowly, her sword inched forward.

"Please..." I strained to speak. My vision started to blur as memories filled my mind.

_I'm in the castle with father. I've just finished my training. He greets me, and introduces me to the Warden. Duncan is his name. He says I'd make a good recruit. Father says I should stay, and I agree. _

"Stop..."

_Arl Howe is here. Howe is conversing with my father like an old friend. Howe is casual, unconcerned. Howe tells us that his men are running late. Howe doesn't tell us what he plans. I treat him with the respect I thought he deserved._

_I talk to Fergus. I want to leave with him, go fight in the war alongside him. I act like a child. I'm jealous, and I never get to say goodbye. Oren and Oriana I barely talk to. I think I have time for them later. There are a great many things I think I will still have in the morning._

"Elisa..."

_Something wakes me up. Sound and movement outside. Iona opens the door. She falls back, an arrow in her chest. Howe's men storm through the castle. I try to find the others. I find Oriana and her son dead on the floor. Howe's men slaughter all they find. I repay them in kind. _

My arm is shaking uncontrollably. Burning pain though every nerve, every cell. I feel my bones shift, and I can't even cry out in pain. The same inner pressure I felt at the tower is back. I feel like my arm is going to burst from within.

_Father is wounded. He lies on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He tries to put on a brave face for me, but I see through his lies. He's dying. Duncan wants me to leave them. This Warden has the gall to tell me to abandon my family. I don't. I open the door and I go out swinging. My swords are like extensions of myself. I have no more conscious thoughts. I see myself as if an observer, see myself slaughter my family's murderers. I kill and kill and kill again, until I am so soaked in blood I feel it will never be gone. Blades pierce my armour, but I pay no heed. _

_Duncan drags me away. I thrash, I kick, I scream. He tells me I must live for a great purpose. I want to go down fighting. I want to make Howe pay in blood for every step he takes in my home. _

_And with that, I have nothing_.

"ELISA!"

I snapped out of the memories, and what little control I had slipped away. Zathrian dropped to the ground, and so did I. I felt weak and drained. I looked at my arm, and choked. It had changed again. It barely looked like armour anymore. The 'metal' flexed and moved with me like a second skin, now even closer to black. Pulling back my undershirt, I could see the 'metal' digging into my shoulder, so close I couldn't even wedge a fingernail beneath it.

Alistair had appeared out of nowhere. I saw him with his arms wrapped around Elisa.

"Come back, Elisa," he pleaded, his eyes closed tight, "Please come back."

She dropped the sword. Her own arms met behind his back. Her head lay on his shoulder. She let out a peaceful sigh, and slipped to the ground. Alistair caught her and gently laid her on her back.

"Will she be alright?" he asked.

"She will be fine," the Lady of the Forest replied, leaving the ruins. "You have calmed her. Her curse will be broken."

Zathrian was slowly surrounded by the werewolves and the rest of the party. Zathrian dragged himself up.

"I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old... to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children, my people. I... I cannot do it," Zathrian said.

Alistair turned away from Elisa. He looked at Zathrian, looked him right in the eye. He glanced back at Elisa.

Alistair slowly dropped to his knees. "Please," he said. "Save Elisa."

"Perhaps I have... lived too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root... it has consumed my soul," Zathrian admitted. "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse, just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

"You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker... put an end to me. _We_ beg you... show mercy," the Lady said.

Zathrian shook his head, "You shame me, spirit. I am... an old man, alive long past his time."

"Then you will do it? You will end the curse?" The Lady asked, hope filtering into her voice.

"Yes... I think it is time. Let us... let us put an end to it all," Zathrian said finally, sanding up straight. He looked around and, with an air of finality, tapped his staff on the ground. He slowly and gracefully crumpled. The Dalish keeper lay dead, and an unearthly light grew around the scene. The closer wolves laid her hands on the Lady, as if wanting to keep her there. She looked around sadly, and she was lost in the light. Moments later the werewolves were engulfed in the same light.

My vision cleared. The werewolves were gone, leaving yellow-eyed humans in their place. They were astounded that they had been returned to human form. They inspected themselves, embraced one another and smiled.

"It's... over," the man formerly named Swiftrunner said. "She's gone, and... we're human. I can scarcely believe it."

Alistair wasn't paying attention. He was staring intently at Elisa. She was lying still and silent, as if asleep. Slowly, she stretched out an arm. Her eyes slowly opened, no longer yellow, but a deep bronze colour.

"Hmm... what happened?" Elisa asked sleepily.

"I did something stupidly heroic," Alistair choked.

"That's my boy," Elisa smiled. Then she lifted herself up and kissed Alistair.

* * *

The next day, we were on the road again. With Zathrian dead the Dalish clan was back to normal. The cured werewolves had gone back to their homelands, and all was right. Well, except that Alistair knew I'd used blood magic not only on Zathrian, but also on Elisa. From the way he glared at me, I thought he'd never trust me again. That was the least of my problems. Not only did the echo of Elisa's past still haunt my thoughts, I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to Zathrian. It was... inhuman.

"Hey Ven," Elisa said. I looked up. The Warden had come to visit my tent.

"Pull up a seat," I said. She sat down next to me on the dirt.

"I'm sorry," we said in unison.

"I'm sorry I attacked Zathrian like that," Elisa repeated. "I should have controlled myself-"

"It's not your fault," I cut her off. "None of this is your fault. If anything... blame me. I... I used blood magic on you. I let the demon control me. I let you down."

"I still trust you," she said.

"Why?" I exclaimed. "I almost make Zathrian kill himself! I took control of your mind! I have a _demon_ inside me that wants you dead! How, in _all_ of that, can you find something positive?"

There was a long silence after my outburst. I looked away, ashamed that I'd found another chance to whine. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Elisa smiled reassuringly.

"I trust you because I know you'll do the right thing," said softly. "You didn't kill Zathrian. You didn't let me kill him. This whole time you've only been trying to help us, in your own way. We'll find a way to get through this, Ven."

"What if..." I stammered, sudden afraid. "What if she does win? What if she takes control?"

"I won't let that happen," Elisa promised, and I knew it was a promise she would never break. "I'll protect you. I promise."

"Thank you."

* * *

_Thou art I... And I am thou_

_The bond thou has nurtured hath finally matured._

_The innermost power of the Justice Arcana hath been set free._

_You have forged a bond that cannot be broken._


	16. Chapter 15: Pariah

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; With the Warden cursed and time running out, Alistair took control of the party and ended the curse. However, Ventus had to resort to blood magic to do so, and now the demon has grown stronger._

_I'm so sorry for the huge delay. Believe me, I wanted to get this in sooner. The thing is, I had a huge case of writer's block, and I had way too much schoolwork. Sorry for such a short chapter, but watch this space for more!_

The group was arranged in front of me, on the other side of the fire. I was on the other side, isolated. Elisa stood at the halfway mark, slightly to the side. All eyes were on me. I wanted to disappear into the earth.

"I've called you here because we need to talk," Elisa said. "I know there are problems in our group, and I want them out in the open – especially now we know Ven has blood magic."

"Where did you even learn?" Wynne was the first to speak.

"The Redcliffe demon taught me," I replied guiltily.

"Then she still lives?" Wynne exclaimed.

"No!" I quickly added, "I killed her. I saw her die!"

_But you didn't really, a voice in the back of my mind said. You didn't make the killing blow. How can you be sure?_

"But why?" the elderly mage asked. "Why learn such an abominable skill?"

"I'm the least experienced person here," I said. "I can't handle the simplest spells. I thought it would make me a better mage. I thought I'd be strong enough to help more."

"And instead you have allowed the demon more control over you," Sten cut in. "As always your judgement is phenomenal."

Wynne shook her head. "You only recently became aware of your talents. Did you believe it would be easy? Could you not be patient? Did it not occur to you that the pursuit of power only ends badly?"

There was a short pause. Leliana took this opportunity to speak.

"I don't know how I feel about it," she admitted. "Ven's already done a lot for me... but blood magic is something I can't overlook."

"Pardon this pot for calling the kettle black," Zevran commented, "But even I find myself a little unsettled by his particular brand of crazy."

"It astounds me that you can all be so naive," Morrigan remarked. We all looked at her.

"Correct me if I misunderstand – are our opinions of Ventus to change because he possesses a skill you associate with 'maleficarum'?"

There was another pause. Elisa looked over at Alistair.

"Alistair, you haven't said anything," she said. "I know it must have been hard for you, seeing me... like that."

Alistair looked up. "I don't like it. Any other situation, I'd throw him out of the group. But he saved you, so... I can't really fault that."

"Alright then," Elisa announced. "Now that that's out of the way, we won't have inter-party arguments getting in the way of the mission. Will we?"

The meeting mercifully ended, and we moved off to bed. I didn't know how to feel, to be honest. I didn't know what was worse – the fact that the party didn't trust me, or how natural the bound armour was feeling. I just... didn't know. That was when I ran into Alistair.

His hand gripped my shoulder tight, and I felt the uneasy stirring in my stomach of templar resistance. He bent down to my level.

"You might have Elisa convinced you were justified, but I'm not buying it," he said, his tone even. "But let me make this perfectly clear; if you ever lose control again, give me one reason to think you might hurt her, and you won't have to worry about the demon anymore. Because I'll be the one to end it."

He left me standing there alone.

The next day we set off to Orzammar. We took the northern road through Denerim to avoid any potential darkspawn groups. It was to be a seven week trip, and I spent the majority of it being ignored. Elisa insisted she keep training me, maybe just to stop me feeling shunned. I appreciated it all the same.

We'd just passed through Denerim when I spotted Leliana with a flower. At this point I was grasping at straws, so I walked next to her.

"Nice flower," I said. She jumped.

"Leliana," I cut her off before she could speak, "Can we please talk about something normal for a change?"

Leliana nodded. "It's Andraste's Grace," she explained. "I found it in the Wilds. I think my mother used to keep it around."

It actually was quite pretty. The deep scarlet centre was a sharp contrast to the snow white petals. Leliana handed it to me.

"Keep it," she said.

"Huh?" I said, confused. "What did you give me this for?"

"It's a flower," she stated. "They look pretty."

I was just out-snarked by Leliana. Something is wrong with the universe.

She flashed a smile, "Or maybe there's a girl you could give it to."

The world's greatest pokerface spread across my face, followed swiftly by a hot flush.

"Who- what- I mean- where did you-" My mouth went on autopilot. Leliana handed me the flower with a knowing look. I still hadn't reconnected my mouth to my brain when Leliana moved away. I know – I am such a lady's man.

That night I went to see Morrigan. Maybe it was because of what Leliana said. Maybe I just wanted someone to talk to. At any rate, I found her in her usual loner-corner. She looked up from her fire as I approached.

"The terrifying maleficar approaches!" she announced with mock horror.

"Hello to you too," I said.

"Is there a reason you grace me with your presence?" Morrigan asked casually.

"Sorry I didn't get to this sooner," I said. "But... thanks. For standing up for me, I mean. It feels like you and Elisa are the only ones that have always been there for me."

"No need," the witch brushed me off. "I require no formal thanks for what is my nature."

"Um... thanks," I said again, awkwardly. Damnit, why don't I know my way around Morrigan more? That's what I get for never doing that male warden playthrough.

"Though I would not protest other displays of gratitude," Morrigan added.

"Huh?" I'm pretty slow these days, aren't I?

"'Tis so cold in my tent all alone," the apostate continued.

"Oh, I can get my blanket from my tent if you..."

_No Clue-Gets It_

_...^..._

_*bing*_

_No Clue-Gets It_

_...^..._

"Oh."

Morrigan stood up. "You act so surprised! Why the apprehension?"

"Well, I, uh," I stammered as Morrigan got uncomfortably close, "It's just kind of new to me."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "Then you have much to learn."

And that night I was introduced to manhood in a tent in the countryside by a yellow-eyed witch.

You want the particulars? Piss off. It was private.

I woke up early that morning, in Morrigan's tent. She was gone. I rubbed my eyes, pulled on some clothes and emerged in the gray early-morning light. Morrigan was there, scattering the remains of her fire.

"Morning," I said. "Where'd you go?"

"I used your tent," she replied, kicking dirt over the ashes. "I have no desire to share a bed any longer than necessary."

"...right," I said. "About last night..."

"Yes, there are things to discuss," Morrigan agreed, turning to face me. "Simply know that I have no designs on your independence. I wish only to do what I desire, and if that coincides with what you desire, then so be it – and should you decide not to continue our... misadventure, then so be it. Very simple, is it not?"

Formal. Cold.

"What about love?" I asked. "Where does that fit in?"

"And now you ruin the mood with profanity," she sighed. I didn't know what to think, or say. Suddenly I darted over to my tent and returned. Morrigan raised an eyebrow as I presented her with the Andraste's Grace Leliana had given me.

"And what is this?" she asked.

"It's a flower," I said breathlessly. "I love you. I want to be with you." It was probably the dumbest thing I'd ever said in my entire life. But the thing was, I really did feel something for Morrigan. Despite how cold she could normally be, she was the only one that had always stood by me. Plus I guess I had some feelings left over from the game. All my confused and lonely feelings came out in one muddled tumble, leaving me exposed.

There was a second of silence, but it was the longest second of my life. I could only imagine what the grimace of blind hope looked like on my face. Morrigan looked faintly amused.

"Such a romantic all of a sudden," she remarked, taking the flower. "But you should not pursue this. You are making yourself look foolish."

She disappeared into her tent. I stood there silently for a while. I slowly walked over and sat by the remains of the main fire. I didn't know how to feel. I guess I felt... empty. I thought losing your virginity was supposed to be special. Me – I just felt like a dirty rag.

"Morning, lovebird."

Elisa sat down beside me, just finished with her morning routine.

"Oh shit, you know?" I asked.

"Whole camp knows," the Warden replied. "Leliana especially."

"Do I need to know?"

"I believe her words were 'shrieking like a genlock being murdered', and 'she should try harder so they hear her in the Anderfels'."

"I didn't need to know!" I winced.

"We gossip like old women," the Warden went on. "Not much else to do on the road. They only just shut up about Alistair and I."

"I just... don't know," I said finally. "I thought it meant something. I guess I was just a cheap fling."

Elisa paused, thinking. She swivelled on the ground to face me.

"I don't know if it's just me or wishful thinking, but..." she said slowly. "Morrigan seems a little nicer than usual. I think you're rubbing off on her."

"Now you're just trying to make me feel better," I said flatly.

"Look, I don't profess to know much about your love life," she admitted. "Just see where all this goes. It's not the end of the world."

"Takes my mind off the demonic possession," I remarked. Elisa didn't have a reply for that.

We kept travelling. Days passed, and I didn't speak with Morrigan again. I admit, I avoided her. Getting turned down had probably been the most embarrassing moment of my life. Even the tedium of the Deep Roads would have been better. Speaking of which, I found myself hoping Malcolm had at least found Branka before running into whatever trouble had found him – I didn't relish re-enacting the middle third of Lord of the Rings.

The closer we got to Orzammar, the colder it got. I saw snow for the first time in a while. We ran into a trade caravan coming the other way, and Elisa flagged him down. Understandably, he thought he was getting robbed. Once Elisa explained herself, he started talking. Apparently a surfacer had been causing trouble in Orzammar in the middle of the election. Of course it had to be Malcolm. Elisa thanked him and resupplied the party, adding a selection of winter gear. We all got warm winter cloaks and Morrigan finally wore more than enough fabric for half a person.

That night when we camped I finally worked up the courage to talk to Morrigan again. When I found her sitting outside her tent, Flemeth's grimoire was lying on the ground beside her.

"What's wrong?" I asked. She looked up at me.

"I have finished deciphering Flemeth's grimoire," she replied.

"You look... disturbed," I said. Not that I didn't know what she'd found.

"I know how Flemeth extends her lifespan," Morrigan said. "I should have known from the start. Legends speak of the Witch of the Wilds having many daughters, and yet I am alone. Flemeth has been possessing them, and I am to be next!"

"So what will you do?" I play my part as I know I have to.

"There is only one option," she said shortly. "Flemeth must die. I have not brought this to the Warden, but I cannot do this myself. If I am present when she is slain, she may possess me."

"Then why tell me?" I asked. She didn't respond.

A few more days of travel and we finally reached Orzammar. If it was cold in the rest of Ferelden, it was even colder up here in the mountains. Most of the traders and merchants we found camped outside the entrance were wrapped in every warm article of clothing they could find. We went straight up to the front door.

"Hold up, surfacer. Nobody gets into Orzammar," the guard warned.

"What if I were a Grey Warden?" Elisa asked.

"You'd be the second one," he replied. "Not that it'd help you much. Last one practically murdered his way in here and got himself mixed up with the carta. No idea where he is now."

Elisa sighed. "Nothing's ever simple, is it?"

"Not in this life, friend," the guard agreed.

"Anyway, if nothing else I need to reclaim Grey Warden property," she went on. "He had a very important treaty with him."

I was looking around absent-mindedly, not focusing on the conversation. I scanned the scene. A couple of stalls, some traders, merchants, a shadowy figure, guards-

My head snapped back. There, on the snowy ridge. I thought I saw... I shook my head. I was seeing things. Just tired, nothing sinister.

"Yeah, I saw it," the guard waved in the direction of the city. "Go in. What's a couple more surfacers. Just don't cause trouble."

"We never do," Elisa said innocently, and we went underground.


	17. Chapter 16: The Prince

_A/N: Again, apologies for the long wait. Orzammar kills my brain. Also..._

_YAAAAAAAAAAAAY! My lazy ass broke 100 reviews for the first time evar! Now on to more..._

* * *

We finally entered Orzammar proper. The cold of the mountains outside was instantly replaced with scorching head, and we stripped off our winter clothes as quick as possible. Because, after all, Chorezammar was built on a boiling lake of magma. Convenction? WHAT'S THAT?

"Ok..." Elisa said. "Now we just need to find the king, barge kick in his door and politely ask where Malcolm is."

"No need, Warden," a voice said. We all turned, and saw that a dwarf had seemingly materialized from thin air.

"I hate it when people do that," she muttered to herself. Louder, she replied, "How did you find me so quickly?"

"You will find Orzammar quite different to what you are accustomed to," the dwarf replied. "My name is Vartag Gavorn. I was sent by Prince Bhelen."

Bhelen sent his man to find us? This is very different... does it have something to do with Malcolm?

"What about?" Elisa asked suspiciously.

"He knows where your Warden is – and the treaty," Vartag said. We followed him.

Just a few minutes later, we were in Prince Bhelen's office. It was kind of a tight fit to get us all in here, and the size of everything relative to us didn't help matters. Eventually Bhelen came in.

"Ah. Warden. You're here," he said. "Good. We have a lot to discuss."

"You said you knew where Malcolm was," Elisa said, folding her arms.

"A half-truth," Bhelen replied. "I don't know where he is, but I know who has him. Now," he raised a hand to silence her, "There is background detail you must know first."

"Make it quick," the Warden said. "There's an Archdemon that needs killing."

Bhelen nodded. "Now, first of all, your treaty technically only binds Orzammar's _king_ – something we lack at the moment. We are in the middle of an election between myself and Lord Harrowmont, and your friend agreed to help him in exchange for your troops."

"Wait, you _elect_ kings here?" Elisa asked incredulously.

"It's tradition," Bhelen replied, a bitter edge hidden in his tone. "Our ancestors did it, and now we are shackled to those traditions."

"Hold on, you said Malcolm was helping your rival," Elisa pressed. "Why help me?"

"Because when he was captured, he had your treaty!" Bhelen said. "This is an act of good faith, Warden. I want to show you how my Orzammar will treat surfacers."

"So... you said you knew who had him," Elisa went on.

"Yes. It's the carta," Bhelen said darkly. "A bunch of dusters and cutthroats." He spat on the floor. "I've been trying to wipe them out for as long as I can remember. Harrowmont has too. All I know is that your friend went into Dust Town after them for Harrowmont and never came back."

"How do you know he's still alive?"

"I don't," the dwarf replied shortly. "But it's the only chance you've got."

Elisa rubbed her chin, thinking, "Fine. But we're certainly not doing this for you – the last thing I want is to get involved in your power struggles."

Bhelen nodded in forced politeness and left. A guard came to see us out. A few minutes later we were back in the Diamond Quarter.

"I would advise caution," Leliana said, "Politics is never as it seems."

"Hence why I am suddenly glad about Grey Warden neutrality..." Elisa muttered. "Alright. Our investigation starts in Dust Town. _However, _we can't all go at once – too obvious. Ventus, Alistair, Leliana - let's go poke this with a stick."

Leaving the growing party behind we ventured off through Borezammar. We came upon Dust Town and entered, determined to find Malcolm. Elisa slowed upon entering the slum proper, taking the sight before her. Dust Town lived up to its name, and more. There was a heavy, depressing atmosphere of hopelessness and desperation. Everyone we saw was dirty, their clothes ragged and mended countless times. All bore ugly black brands on their faces, livid against their pale, unhealthy skin.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Why?" Elisa muttered to herself. "Why would they let this place stay like this?"

"We can take it up with the prince when we get back," Alistair reassured her, his hand on her arm. Elisa shook her head and kept going. We stopped in the central area of Dust Town, by a tiny guttering fire. Most dwarves had moved aside as we approached, leaving one beggar huddled by the fire.

"Spare a coin, my lady?" she asked weakly, a hand extending from the folds of her rags. "Five silver?"Elisa dropped to one knee. She produced a handful of silver coins and passed it to the dwarf woman. She snatched them like a rabid ferret and secreted them away.

"What's your name?"

"Nadeza," the dwarf replied. "Go on, ask. We both know you want something from me."

Elisa leaned closer and muttered, "What do you know about the carta?"

Nadeza stiffened. "Stone-blind bastards," she hissed. "I used to run with them. You're lucky you came to be – everybody else is too scared of Jarvia."

"What makes you so keen to betray them?" Elisa asked.

"I can't _walk_ anymore," Nadeza spat. "One of them broke my knees and made me kneel in dung. They'll never heal. Tell me that isn't enough reason-"

"Ok, I'm sorry," Elisa held up her hand. "How do we get into her hideout?"

"It's hidden – the only way through is hidden doors all around the city. There's one over there," the dwarf gestured stealthily towards a wall that looked out-of-place now that we focused on it. "To get it you need a finger bone token with a symbol etched in it. Put in the slot and the door will open. You'll have to find someone from the carta to get one."

"And what about the last person that came through here?" Elisa asked, producing five more coins. Nadeza took them as well.

"Ahh, him," she smiled mirthlessly. "Made a big commotion and they came out to deal with him. He killed four of the buggers and went in. Must be dead by now. _Hope_ he's dead by now..."

Elisa thanked her and stood up. She stood there, waiting.

"What's happening?" I asked.

"Wait for it..." she replied quietly. Time passed, and the shadows moved. Dwarves began to materialize from the dark corners of Dust Town, surrounding us in a ring. Leliana, Alistair and I put our backs to each other, drawing our weapons. Elisa smirked.

"This wasn't my doing, I swear!" Nadeza pleaded.

"I know."

The ringleader stepped forward, "Looks like we have another troublemaker here," he sneered.

"Let's be civil about this," Elisa said pleasantly. "Give me your key to the hideout and you can walk away."

The ringleader burst out laughing, backed by his men. It faltered and slowly faded away as Elisa completely failed to react. Some of them started looking worried.

"Let's take stock, shall we?" Elisa said. "I have with me a templar that slew an immortal Dalish keeper. I have a bard that could kill you from the Diamond Quarter. Best of all, I have an abomination that destroyed the Circle tower."

As she spoke, her voice grew harder. "They follow my command. They're loyal. So... what does that say about me?"

A moment of tense silence stretched forever. Elisa broke the silence, drawing both swords with twin _shrik_s and twirled them. There was another pause.

"Basically... run," she smiled. Half the group turned and fled at that moment, most of the other half going when they realized their friends had left. Eventually only the ringleader remained.

"Oh sodding ancestors," he said to himself. Elisa sheathed her swords.

"I wasn't lying. Give me your token and you can go," she said kindly. A moment's hesitation, then the ringleader was gone, the token lying in the dust where he had stood. Elisa scooped it up and held it aloft.

"People need to stop letting me talk," she said to herself, "Come along!"

We approached the door and Elisa inserted the token. The door unlocked, and it slid away. The four of us entered, unsure of what we would find. A short trip down a tunnel and we found another door. Leliana picked the lock and we sidled inside. The tunnels were... curiously empty.

"Looks like trouble," Elisa said, drawing her swords. We followed her lead. Proceeding down the tunnel we were suddenly accosted by a sprinting dwarf. We readied our weapons, only for him to blow right past us. We watched him disappear around a bend.

"I think we need a reason for that," Elisa commented. We continued, and heard the faint sounds of combat. The party quickened its pace, and the noises grew louder and louder. We stormed through the door and into one of the stone rooms that made up the hideout.

Inside a single man was fighting several dwarves at once. Many more lay dead on the floor, what looked like javelins protruding from a few of them. The man wielded a shield and a spear, using them to keep his opponents at a distance. His jabs were lightning quick, forcing the unshielded dwarves to dance back from its tip. The spear looked like a heavy pole with half a sword blade stuck on the end, good for long-range slashes as well as thrusts. There was an angled crossguard were the metal met the wood, and a sharp spike protruded from the other end of the pole.

The spear found a target, and one of the dwarves fell dead. The other two shied away. Suddenly a quinari mercenary lumbered into view, armour and sporting a greatsword. The man spun and caught the blow on his shield, but the force sent him staggering. He simply slipped the shield off his arm and gripped his spear in both hands. The sword came around again and the man snapped out a hooking blow against the quinari's wrist, stopping the blade dead. The spear continued, the heavy blade stabbing behind him and into the gut of the thug approaching from behind.

Still keeping his momentum the man swept the spear up out of the dwarf's chest and in a long arc over his head. The blade clanged against the quinari's greatsword. The final dwarf was attacking, but the warrior was ready. He turned on the spot and deflected the dwarf's blade with the butt of the spear, cracking him hard in the temple with the heavy shaft. As the quinari's sword slid away for a counterattack he dropped into a crouch, spinning as he went. The blade sailed over his head and the warrior's spear connected again. Bolstered by his spin, the blade bit deep into the quinari's leg.

The warrior thrust backwards, and the butt rammed into the dizzy dwarf's stomach. He slowly stood, sliding the spear from the body. He twirled it and planted the butt on the ground. The man turned, and finally saw us. His foot slipped under a throwing axe lying on the ground and flicked it up into his hand. He hurled it with all his might, and the group parted.

The axe lodged firmly in the skull of the dwarf sneaking up on us. Astonished, we all turned back. His arm still outstretched, the man panted.

"What took you so flaming long?" Malcolm shouted.

* * *

He'd certainly changed a lot since we last saw him however long ago it was. His time with the carta hadn't been pleasant – his hair was long and matted, and a ragged beard had sprouted. Once we had made sure he wasn't severely injured he told us his story. Some of it we already knew – supporting Harrowmont and attacking the carta. Apparently he'd enacted a series of hit and run attacks, stealthily picking off carta members as they entered or left hideouts. The carta had soon caught wind of him, and eventually led him into a trap and overpowered him. He'd still managed to kill a fair few, forcing them to bolster their numbers with mercenaries.

He'd been spared torture for his status. Revealed to be a Grey Warden by the treaty he carried, Jarvia had kept him for her own purposes. Guarded day and night, he was a bargaining chip. For what, he had no idea. All he knew was that it had taken him a while, with the help of a fellow prisoner, to escape.

"Leske is long gone," Malcolm said. "You must have passed him on your way here."

I was suddenly very glad we hadn't killed that guy.

Malcolm had spent his time getting familiar with the different guards and their personalities. One day, under guard by the one he judged the stupidest, Leske had pulled the sick act. Even the guard wasn't fooled, but since Leske was curled up in the corner of the cell he had to press against the bars to see him. The corner Leske had chosen put the guard in the corner where Leske's cell met Malcolm's. The Warden had reached out and crushed the guard's neck against the bars of his cell and stolen the key.

Making his way to the armoury, he'd found the armaments he carried now – a shield, a spear, a holster of javelins, a throwing axe and a mace. He'd been just about to escape when we arrived.

"Who told you where to find me?" he asked.

"Prince Bhelen," Elisa replied. "Oddly enough."

Malcolm's face darkened, "No... it makes sense now. Harrowmont told me a few things about your chum Bhelen. How he had the eldest son of his family killed, and the middle son framed for it. Harrowmont sent me here to find proof he hired carta thugs to do the deed. He even forged documents claiming Harrowmont was double-dealing – I took them to the shaperate myself."

"Even if that's true, why keep you alive?"

"Like I said, a bargaining chip," Malcolm explained. "Jarvia is insane, she thinks she can rule the city if she gets enough leverage on a candidate. So she hass been holding a 'powerful supporter of Harrowmont' over his head, a 'gift', showing she will deal if she gets a fair cut. Bhelen told her to keep me in good condition so when you came in here like big damn heroes you would be eternally grateful that he graced you with that knowledge.

"Bhelen is scum, Elisa. We need to bring him down."

"First of all, Jarvia's crazy ass needs to die," Elisa cut him off. "Then we can debate politics to our heart's content."

We continued on through the carta hideout, encountering very little resistance along the way. Finally we came across Jarvia, exactly where she was supposed to be.

"_Another_ Warden," she said, noticing Elisa. "Another of Harrowmont's lackeys trying to shut us down? Or... has Bhelen forgotten his place?"

"Can you just bugger off and let us go?" Elisa sounded bored. "We're kind of in a hurry – and frankly, you're scarcely noteworthy for me."

Jarvia went bright red. "Watch your words, whore! Men, kill the rest, but leave the mouthy one for me."

"Ooooor you could die," Elisa finished. Malcolm's axe flew past her head so close the slipstream moved her hair. It buried itself into Jarvia's chest, easily smashing through her armour. Malcolm stepped into the room.

"I knew... I should have... killed you..." Jarvia wheezed. Malcolm slowly approached her, raised his boot and slammed it down on her face. He turned to look at our stunned faces.

"What?" he shouted. We said nothing. The last remnants of Jarvia's men had wisely buggered off, leaving us alone. We searched the room and came across a chest full of documents. Casual scans revealed quite a lot of carta-backed dealings, but finally we found what we were looking for. Elisa scanned over the sheaf of correspondence notes.

"It's true," her voice sounded oddly strained. "He hired them."

"We have to take this to Harrowmont," Malcolm urged. The papers crinkled in Elisa's hands.

"No. I'll drop by Bhelen first," she said. Malcolm seemed about to question, but he gave up and followed her with the rest of us.

* * *

We emerged from the secret exit, knocking over a shelf of goods in the local blacksmith. The owner of the shop yelled at our hastily retreating backs. We soon found ourselves entering the palace, headed for Bhelen's office.

"The prince is not seeing anyone at this moment, Warden," one of the guards said. Elisa kept coming.

"Warden, stay ba-" the other guard began, cut off by sharp contact from Elisa's armoured elbow to his teeth. The first guard seemed about to move when Malcolm's boot connected solidly with his face. Elisa practically charged through the doors. Bhelen jumped out of his chair.

"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted indignantly. Elisa hit him with a sharp kick to the chest, sending him reeling. Guards were flooding in, and a burly dwarf held my arms. I saw Alistair and Leliana similarly restrained. Malcolm punched the first guard to touch him. Two guards came for Elisa, but Bhelen waved them off. There was a long silence as Bhelen met Elisa's glowering stare.

"Leave us," he ordered.

"But my lord-"

"LEAVE!"

The guards let us go and closed the door behind them. Bhelen smirked.

"Saw through my little deception, eh Warden?" he said. "It seems you are somewhat intelligent."

"Cut the bullshit. You murdered your own brothers," Elisa accused.

"Only one. The other was sent into the Deep Roads without my input at all."

"You know _damn well_ what I mean!" Elisa snapped. "You killed innocent people."

"A means to an end."

"You betrayed the law!"

"LAW!" Bhelen shouted mockingly, "Law, tradition, customs, history! The only words that are worth a damn in this city, words parroted day in, day out by the shrivelled relics that make the laws. It's about time someone _did_ defy the law. Did you see Dust Town, Warden? Did you take a good, long look at that? _That_ is the fruit of our laws. Let me explain the caste system to you; caste is a place in life that is forced upon you for life. A smith will be so for his whole life, and a casteless has nothing to hope for but continued _existence_. When a child is born, they belong to the caste of their same-sex parent.

All well and good for a family of _nobles_ – but then you have _noble-hunting_. Such an amusing pastime – it's when the casteless seek out nobles, or even anyone from a caste. They think that if they produce a child of the right sex, they can be saved from their nightmare of a life. The _day my brother was sent into the deep roads_ he was accosted by a noble-hunter."

"Keep justifying yourself, Bhelen," Elisa said coldly. "Dig that hole a little bit deeper and I'll have enough room to bury you."

"I suppose you plan to support Harrowmont, is that correct?" Bhelen asked snidely. "You think the caste system is bad? He will make is _worse_. He speaks of complete isolation from the surface – no one enters, no one leaves, not even for trade. He wants more caste division, more rights for the nobles. He wants to shackle Orzammar to tradition until the end of time."

Elisa nodded, then spoke in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "Yes, prince Bhelen, saviour of Orzammar, but how do you explain selling out your own family. Did they _get in the way_?"

Bhelen laughed, "You judge me, Warden, but we are the same. When you want something changed, do you ask politely? Do you use the proper channels? No, Warden; you drive through it. If there is a mountain in your way you force your way through it. We are both forces of change."

"You remind me a lot of someone," Elisa ignored Bhelen. "His name is Arl Howe. He's just as conniving, self-serving and ruthless as you."

"I should like to meet him someday," Bhelen smirked.

_Crunch_.

Bhelen's nose burst, blood pouring down his face. He staggered back, crying out in pain. Elisa pulled back her armoured fist, the metal stained with the prince's blood. He dabbed at his shattered nose.

"When I find Howe, I'll make him beg for death," Elisa said evenly. "Stay out of my way... or I'll use you as practice."

She turned sharply to leave, slamming the doors open, and the rest of us turned to follow. Suddenly, Bhelen began to laugh. I looked back, and saw Bhelen's eyes glinting with malicious mirth.

"Every step you take, every move you make, Warden," he laughed, "Just serves to prove me right."

The prince's laugher followed us all the way out of the palace.


	18. Chapter 17: The Blood Soaked Warden

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; Malcolm is recovered and Bhelen's deception hits close to home for Elisa._

_Recommended music for this chapter; http:/ www. youtube .com / watch?v= L312hr ETOLs (remove the spaces) Play it when you read the line "Branka let this happen to you."_

* * *

We were outside the palace now, feeling a little awkward about the stunt we had just pulled. There were whispers behind our backs already, and I couldn't help but think we'd made a powerful enemy. Elisa was alone, leaning over the railing that overlooked the magma pit far below. The rest of us glanced at each other awkwardly.

"I should talk to her," Alistair and I said almost in unison. Malcolm nodded.

"I'll ah... find the others," he said. "Meet us at Harrowmont's estate."

Alistair nodded. We shared a glance and approached Elisa. I stood on her left and Alistair on her right. Her face was lit by the orange glow of the lava, and I could faintly make out a wet mark.

"Are you all right?" Alistair asked.

"Yes." A pause. "No."

"What happened back there?" I asked.

"I... I don't know," she said quietly. "He... he reminded me too much of Howe. He reminded me too much of what happened when Duncan recruited me."

Alistair nodded, and I shivered. I'd felt the rage bubbling inside Elisa before, in the Brecilian Forest. That seething hate had almost killed me. I shuddered to think of what it was like for her to live with it.

"What would you have done?" she asked. She looked and Alistair and I in turn. "What would you have done?"

_I light the torch in my hand. The flame flares up brightly. I look to my companion, holding his own torch._

"_Ready?" I ask._

"_Ready," he replies. We split up, and once in position we throw our torches. He climbs onto the rooftops and hurls his supply of torches into the courtyard below. I toss some into the stables and a few through open windows. The flames spring up hungrily, licking eagerly at the bastard's home. A sentry comes to see what's happening. I get the jump on him, and cave his skull in with a frying pan. I take his sword and crossbow._

_We meet up at the servant's entrance. There are many city elves attempting to escape, even as the guard beats them, ordering them to fight the flames. I draw my sword through his gut. The first kill of many. His friend comes in, and my companion downs him with the crossbow I gave him._

_We tell the servants to escape. They recognize us, and run without question. We encounter resistance, but I carve a path without hesitation. The bastard's home is awash with blood. I find his private chambers, and kick in the door. There he is, smug and secure. His latest victim lies on the floor, sobbing at her lost innocence. _

_My blade takes another life. _

_We carry her back out, gingerly, gently. The fire has become a raging blaze, standing out bright against the night sky. More guards are pouring in from the rest of the city to fight it. A bucket chain if formed stretching from the estate to the docks. My companion takes the woman's weight. I stop. I look back. _

_The final life of the night has been taken._

_My own._

"I would have done the same," my mouth said. My brain reeled from the images that had flashed before me, and I held my head as pain lanced through it. Elisa rubbed her hand across her eyes.

"How am I supposed to do this?" she asked. "A Grey Warden is supposed to be neutral – but how can I be when I let my feelings control me like this?"

"Don't worry," Alistair said. Elisa raised an eyebrow.

"'Don't worry'?" she repeated. "That's the best you have?"

"I can't have a witty quip for _every_ occasion," he said. "Elisa, your feelings have led you to do things I never could have. You went out of your way to save Connor, despite the danger. You saved the Circle. You even brought peace in a centuries-old conflict. Your feelings are going to steer you right. Trust them."

Elisa smiled. "There _is_ a brain in there."

"I try not to show it," Alistair replied, grinning, "People might start taking me seriously."

"Ok," Elisa straightened up, "Time to go see this other guy we keep hearing about."

As we walked I tried to make sense of what had just happened. The images were already fading fast, like a dream. All I could remember was the same terrible anger I'd felt in Elisa. What the hell was happening to me?

Then we stopped outside Lord Harrowmont's estate. And found ourselves surrounded by armoured dwarves poised to murder us.

"Just once I'd like to go five minutes without fighting for my life," I said flatly, drawing my bastard sword.

"Wardens don't get that luxury," Elisa replied. Malcolm readied his spear in a vaguely martial-arts fashion. Our ambushers brandished their weapons. The apparent leader stepped forward.

"Death to Harrowmont's sycophants!" he shouted.

"Come off it," Elisa sighed, "I must have killed a hundred of you buggers just today. The more you keep at this little stunt the more I want to feed your prince to the Archdemon, so _please_ do not test me."

"All hail Lord Bhelen, may he rule fore-" the leader began. The javelin found the gap between his helmet and chestplate. The dwarf gurgled and fell. Malcolm brandished another javelin. The others took the hint and left. Elisa glanced at him.

"You know, we should really talk about this mid-conversation murder habit. It's becoming a problem," she said.

"You haven't been stuck here as long as I have," Malcolm shot back. Elisa conceded the point. She walked over to the body and pulled out the javelin, tossing it back to Malcolm. She knelt down and removed the helmet. It was Vartag Gavorn – Bhelen's man.

"I should _not_ be surprised," she said to herself. "Can't leave well enough alone, can he?"

"We are in agreement then, Warden," a voice replied. We turned. Lord Harrowmont had appeared on the doorstep, and we could see the rest of the party inside. Malcolm inclined his head in greeting.

"Lord Harrowmont?" Elisa introduced herself, "I'm Elisa Cousland, your backup Grey Warden. These are Alistair, Leliana and Ventus. Malcolm you've already met. I'm here to talk to you about your opponent."

Harrowmont sighed. "You had better come in, then."

* * *

We were seated in Harrowmont's office. Maps of the Deep Roads were strewn across the table, Harrowmont and the Wardens pointing at specific points as they spoke.

"Even with your help, it is still not enough," Harrowmont was saying. "The assembly still cannot reach a decision. Our only option is to secure the support of a Paragon."

"A Paragon you don't even know is still alive," Elisa added, "And even if she is, she's so far into the Deep Roads all the expeditions so far have failed miserably."

"It's still the best we can do," Malcolm said grimly. "If we want our soldiers, that is."

"Damn it all," Elisa rubbed her forehead. "We'll need supplies. Leads as to where Branka went. _Something_."

"Men?" Harrowmont offered, "I can have my personal force equipped to accompany you-"

"No, don't bother," Elisa stopped him, "We're heading right into the heart of the darkspawn's home – the only reason this is _remotely_ possible is because of the Blight. Even so, we get the horde's attention and we're done, no matter how many there are of us. Our best option is a small strike team – slip past the darkspawn, find Branka and get out."

"When you say _small_, how small?" Alistair asked.

"I can't take all of us," she replied. "Look, we'll decide when we leave. There's still a lot we need to sort out."

Harrowmont told us all he knew about Branka and her quest for the Anvil of the Void. Of course I knew it all, but as always I had to keep my mouth shut. I also had the prospect of a trip into the Deep Roads. Fun fun fun! Knowing my luck we'd run into a Balrog. Maybe if we brought Wynne she could stop of from passing... The Dead Trenches even has a big bridge, doesn't it? Oh crap...

The best part was that we didn't even know how long it'd take for us to find Branka. So we had to load up with as much supplies as was practical to bring. We had three donkeys completely loaded down, not to mention our own packs. More and more I thought about how much this trip would suck. Then a nug raced through my field of vision, squeaking madly, and Barkspawn pursued it barking happily.

"Is this the Warden's party?" the unmistakable voice of Steve Blum growled behind me. I turned around. There was Oghren in all his short, smelly, dirty glory. The red-haired dwarf glanced at each of us in turn.

"Which one of yeh is the Warden?" he asked. Elisa turned to him and folded her arms.

"Do you even know what the Warden looks like?" she asked, a smile twitching around her lips.

"Well, apparently she's a woman," Oghren said, looking at Leliana, Wynne, Morrigan and her in turn. "But not all that good-looking. A bit man-shaped."

Elisa went bright red. "She's WHAT!"

"Oh. Eh, guess you're the Warden, huh?" he chuckled sheepishly. "Just hearsay, mind you. But anyway, I want to get to the point. I heard you're going into the Deep Roads, and I want to come too."

"Why?"

"Well, for starters, I've been doing my own digging about where Branka went," Oghren explained. "Second of all, she's my wife."

"Oh." Elisa paused. "Well, that's a fine reason."

"I'm warrior caste, so I know how to handle myself," the dwarf said. "I'm sure I'll fit riiight in."

"Well, at least now we have a dwarf in the group!" Elisa said brightly. "We've got just about everyone in the spectrum. It's an equal-opportunities bonanza."

Oghren quickly introduced himself to the rest of the party. I overheard Zevran say something about 'stereotypical elf/dwarf banter'.

At last we decided who would stay behind – though I had to question Elisa's reasons. She'd decided to bring me along yet again. What does she see in me? Anyway, along with Alistair, Malcolm and I, Morrigan would be accompanying us. Oghren was of course coming, since we needed his knowledge of the Deep Roads. Wynne, Leliana, Zevran and Sten were left behind to make sure the situation in Orzammar didn't get any worse while we were gone. Plus Barkspawn had to be a good doggie and stay home. Malcolm had a pass to enter the Deep Roads from Harrowmont, so we said our goodbyes and left for the entrance.

Bhelen was there already. He was sitting on a stone, flanked by a pair of guards, reading a book. Alistair reached out to hold her back, but Elisa had already stormed towards him.

"Leaving so soon, Warden?" He asked innocently, not looking up from the book.

"The hell do you think you're playing at, sending your man after us?" Elisa demanded.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Bhelen replied coolly, turning the page. "I can't be responsible for actions my supporters take of their own free will."

Elisa snatched the book out of his hands. Bhelen held still for a second, then slowly looked up at Elisa. His nose had been splinted, and there was dried blood in his beard.

"How's the nose?" Elisa asked.

"You would enjoy the book," Bhelen ignored her. "It's a history of Orzammar. I find it a bit repetitive, to be honest. Not a lot of development."

"No wonder, if it's written by people like you," the Warden replied.

"I wonder if Harrowmont talked to you about his plans for Orzammar. Or perhaps he did not dare risk it? Did he send the heroic Warden after the Paragon, fearful of how she would see him were he to explain his plans for the city? Will he only tell you that the casteless are destined to rot in the dust until the Stone takes us all?" Bhelen asked.

"No," Elisa replied. "But then again, he doesn't need blades to get his point across."

"You _always_ go back to my methods, don't you?" Bhelen smirked. "This is Orzammar, Warden. We learn to lie and doublecross as babes. Are means so important to you that you wilfully blind yourself to the ends? Do not make me trot out a tired speech about the needs of the many versus the needs of the few."

Elisa leaned in close and violently pushed the book back into Bhelen's arms. "Anyone that talks about the needs of the many has never been one of the few," she said, her voice quiet but steely.

She looked back at us. "Come on, let's go."

As we marched into the darkness of the Deep Roads, I couldn't help but look back at Bhelen. He was chuckling to himself.

"You need me, Warden," he said, flipping through the book to find his place, "You need me."

* * *

"And now we are hopelessly lost," Alistair said.

"We're not lost!" Oghren shot back, "A dwarf always knows exactly where he is! I just, eh, don't know where we are in relation to Ortan Thaig."

"Rejoice, friends," Malcolm said sarcastically, "For Oghren has granted us our Calling of death by darkspawn roughly thirty years too early."

"Shaddup beardy," Oghren snapped, the irony lost on him, "I gotta map just for these occasions. Now all we... where'd the compass mark go?"

"You got your dishwater all over it, remember?" I prompted.

"Orzammar's finest ale to you, buddy," the belligerent dwarf growled, "The dirt puts hairs on yer chest. Just get the mage to clean it with her magic."

"There are some tasks beyond magic," Morrigan sighed. "Masking your body odour, for starters."

"You know you love it," Oghren grinned. I mimed puking.

"How do you even know we're headed in the right direction?" Elisa added.

"I have sharply tuned senses. I know every turn we've made since leaving. We're hot on her trail, I know it."

"So explain why you chased down and ate a Deep Stalker."

"I was hungry and I thought it was a nug! Besides, it didn't taste too bad."

"That's all well and good, but I'd like to find a water source somewhere."

Conversation stopped and I looked up. We'd found the thaig. Oghren whistled.

"There she is."

We entered the thaig carefully, leading the donkeys behind us. It was quiet. Far too quiet. Each footstep seemed to echo countless times through the vast, empty space. It was a ghost town, filled with dilapidated stone buildings and the forgotten remnants of dwarf society. We held our weapons ready. Where were all the darkspawn? More importantly, weren't there supposed to be giant spiders or golems?

Elisa bent down and picked something up. It was a sword, the blade snapped off a few inches from the hilt. It was lying next to a tattered book. Elisa picked it up in her other hand and flipped through it.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The Legion of the Dead..." she read aloud, "Something about 'an admirable topsider'."

"The Legion is a group of warriors that live down here, fighting darkspawn," Malcolm explained. "They hold a funeral when you join. That should be all you need to know."

"The Legion is the last hope a dwarf has," Oghren added. "The shamed and the casteless join up for one last shot at glory. Clear their names."

"Well apparently someone from the surface joined," Elisa said, "A woman. She even officially joined. Says they buried her here somewhere in Ortan Thaig."

"Graverobbin'," Oghren chuckled, "Now you're talkin'."

Elisa glared daggers at him. We kept moving. Again, we encountered none of the monsters form the game. Not even Ruck. What was going on? Also I'm pretty sure the person mentioned in the Admirable Topsider sidequest was a man. And an elf. Actually, I don't care anymore – this is one of the few times the changes have helped me.

We found the book recording Branka's progress just where it was supposed to be. We gathered around as Oghren leafed through the pages. Elisa looked up and slowly walked away.

"What is it?" I asked. I followed her as she walked down a side path I hadn't noticed. It ended in a small room, barely any room to stand. A tomb lay in the centre, taking up most of the space. A broken sword blade lay on the lid. Elisa took the broken handle out of her pack. The pieces fit. I heard the others come down the passage as she reverently placed it on the tomb, with its other half.

"What is it?" Alistair asked.

"This is where she's buried," Elisa replied, "The woman from the surface that fought with the Legion."

Oghren ducked his head to get a better look at the carvings on the tomb. "The stone take this topsider as she would welcome her own... born to air and sky, but served the Deep Roads better than a native son... Heavy stuff. They really respected this gal."

"Died fighting darkspawn," Malcolm said, "The Legion has more in common with the Wardens than most think."

"Should we... say something?" I asked.

"I don't know if it's appropriate, but... it's the best I've got," Alistair said. He cleared his throat.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you," he recited.

I felt a tingle through my body. It was my new senses for magic – but what had happened? Elisa looked down. The sword on the tomb was completed, without even a seam along the blade where it had been broken. She slowly picked it up and held it aloft, carefully thumbing the blade.

"Still sharp..."

The tomb lid slid back. Within it lay a leather scabbard and a set of armour that I recognized. Legion of the Dead armour – but the body was nowhere to be found. Elisa lifted out the breastplate and inspected it. It was crafted for a woman – it's previous owner.

"Heh, worth picking up after all," Oghren commented.

"I think I'm supposed to have this..." Elisa said to herself.

"What for?" I asked.

"For honouring a hero."

A few minutes later Elisa emerged again. Gone was her old chainmail, replaced with the sleek black plates of Legion armour. It fitted her perfectly. Topsider's Honour sat at her right shoulder, ready to see use once again. Elisa moved experimentally, testing the plate's mobility.

"Let's go wrangle us a Paragon," she said.

* * *

We reached the Dead Trenches. I heard it before I saw it – the endless, tumultuous sound of thousands upon thousands of moving creatures. We emerged in the vast cavern, and none of us could resist the urge to look down. The crevasse was literally packed with darkspawn of every species. Thousands of torches lit the cavern like day, the noise of the darkspawn marching ever-present.

"This is what we look forward to," Malcolm said grimly. "In thirty years, we come here, we go down there, and we kill as many as possible."

He looked at me pointedly, "That's what a Grey Warden has to look forward to. Dying alone in the dark."

The other Wardens didn't comment. They couldn't think of anything to say.

A massive shape swooped by, and we were all sent staggering back. Elisa was the first up, and saw what had appeared.

"The Archdemon," she whispered.

The dragon sat atop an outcropping above its army, belching unnatural purple-black flames. It was too far to see clearly – a fact I was glad about – but I knew what it looked like all too well. I knew it looked rotted and decayed, and I knew its eyes were blank and soulless.

"Can it sense us?" I whispered.

"I don't think so," Elisa whispered back, "It must be too busy... 'talking' to the horde. Stay down."

We waited. It was the tensest minutes of my life. We knew we weren't prepared – if it saw us, we were gone. Not to mention nobody knew what they'd have to give to kill it. I scarcely dared to breathe. Finally the Archdemon left, and we all breathed easier. Even the donkeys had hidden behind some rocks.

"Right," Elisa said, relieved, "Now we can ask those gentlemen if they've seen Branka."

Just as I'd expected, a group of Legion of the Dead were fighting darkspawn on the causeway bridging the crevasse. We raced down to join the fight, and I drew the Green Blade. Our arrival was noticed.

"What the sodding hell?" a Legionnaire shouted, "What's she doing in Legion armour?"

"It's really comfy," Elisa responded, drawing her swords, "Talk to you later."

The three Wardens leaped into the fray. They cut through the darkspawn brutally and efficiently. Elisa's new sword hacked through darkspawn flesh with barely a pause, and Malcolm's spear managed to kill a few before they could even reach him. Alistair darted around Elisa, catching strikes on his shield before I could even register them. Morrigan went with her flamethrower tactic, funnelling the darkspawn towards the Wardens. Meanwhile I killed one by kicking it between the legs and ramming my sword through its chest. No, I don't fight fair.

The battle moved further along the bridge as we beat the darkspawn back. I saw an Emissary in the back ranks, yelling out this fact as I felt it cast a spell. Malcolm tossed his spear into his left hand and drew a javelin, hurling it with all his might. It arced over the crowd and speared the Emissary through the heart. It toppled over, spell discharging uselessly into the air. A Vanguard paused, then ripped the spear out and threw it back. Alistair couldn't be there this time.

Elisa parried it. The javelin struck Topsider's Honour and lost all momentum, spiralling up into the air harmlessly. Malcolm casually snatched it out of the air.

"Good work," he said.

"I've had practice," she replied. Aha! The mystery of the training with Leliana has been solved!

"That... might be harder to block," I said. The tide of darkspawn had slowed, but instead a battalion of archers was forming up.

"Charge! For Orzammar!" the Legion commander roared. We all set off across the bridge as fast as possible. We crossed the halfway point as the darkspawn finished forming up. When we were nearly across, they all readied arrows and aimed. This can't be happening...

The arrows flew. I threw up my hands.

A translucent shield flared into existence before the front rank. The darkspawn arrows ricocheted with audible _ping_s. The volley was spent, and the arrows spiralled off uselessly into the air. The shield faded, and I dropped to one knee, panting. The Legion finished their work.

"I was not aware you could do that," Morrigan commented, helping me stand up, "Perhaps your talents lie in defensive spells?"

"Good," I panted, "Less chance of burning people."

"You know I did not mean that," Morrigan replied. Wait, that tone. _Empathy? _From _Morrigan_?

"See, _that's _why I brought you," Elisa said brightly, clapping me on the shoulder. I groaned. The Legion commander and two other dwarves approached.

"So, what brings you all down here?" the commander asked, removing his helmet.

"We're Grey Wardens," Elisa replied, indicating Alistair and Malcolm, "And I'm Elisa Cousland. We're looking for Paragon Branka."

"Oh, didn't expect Wardens down here. I guess we'll have to wait a while for our honourable deaths," one of the other dwarves sighed in a female voice.

"Be quiet Sigrun. Go wait with the others."

Sigrun. What. What the hell is Sigrun doing here outside of _Awakening_? Sigrun left, apparently happy her cameo had confused the pants off of me.

"Kardol," the commander introduced himself, "Funny to see a Warden in Legion armour, but I'm not one to question help. Who's sending you this time?"

"Well, Lord Harrowmont," Elisa answered, "But I imagine Bhelen may have asked us to do it as well, given time."

The other dwarf present clenched his fists angrily, "Stone-blind, traitorous bastard. I hope he catches rot from a Dust Town whore."

Elisa blinked, "Huh. And what gave you such a positive opinion on your prince?"

"Because," the dwarf said. He removed his helmet, revealing a face I had seen starting up a Dwarf Noble run of Origins, "He's my brother."

"Well, talk about coincidences," Elisa commented, "I think he's a bell-end too."

"Forgive me," the dwarf said, "My name is Duran Aeducan. Bhelen had my brother Trian killed and framed me for it."

"Yes, I found papers to that effect," the Warden replied, "But I was under the impression you died."

"I'm not that easy to kill," Duran replied simply, "I travelled the Deep Roads and eventually came across the Legion. Kardol recognized me and let me join."

"Why not just... return? I'm sure Harrowmont would support you of you opposed your brother."

"I was exiled," Duran said bitterly, "Stripped of my title. I'm casteless now. Worthless."

"Maybe not. Malcolm and I know Harrowmont. If you come back with us, he may be able to clear your name."

"Oh, I've dreamed of such things," Duran said flatly, "Nearly a year in the Deep Roads has ground that out of me. I should have realized what a snake Bhelen was, should have trusted Trian. I'm not cut out for Orzammar's politics... I never was. I was the middle child, perfectly happy with the luxuries of nobility. Thank you, Warden... but your sympathy is wasted here."

Elisa nodded slowly, though I knew she still felt for him. "Do you at least know where Paragon Branka went?"

"No," he replied, "But through there is the deepest part of the Deep Roads we've found yet. If you're looking, you might want to try there."

"Through the darkspawn horde."

"Nobody said it would be easy."

"Look after my ass while I'm gone."

* * *

"Bhelen really is a wonderful person, isn't he?" Alistair said conversationally, decapitating a Hurlock.

"No doubt about that," Elisa replied, bisecting an Emissary at the waist with both swords.

"It amuses me how much methods mean to you people," Morrigan commented, "I imagine if swords were outlawed you would defeat the Archdemon with sticks and harsh words?"

"But what about the caste system?" I asked, booting a Genlock into the abyss, "Don't you and Bhelen both want it gone?"

"I know," Elisa said, "That's the problem."

The last darkspawn band mopped up, we took a breather. We ate from the supplies the donkeys were carrying and made sure the area was secure. It was while I was scanning the area I saw a shadowy figure – the same one I'd seem outside Orzammar.

"Elisa, look!" I pointed. Elisa rushed to my side.

"What, what is it?" she asked.

"Right there," I pointed, "It's been following me."

"What has?"

"It's right there!" I said again, pointing right at it.

"Ven... there's nothing there," Elisa said, looking at me. My brow furrowed. No, that's impossible. How can Elisa not see it? I looked back. The figure was gone.

"Y-you're right," I said finally, "Must have been my imagination."

I rubbed my bound armour.

We moved on. We were drawing closer to something else I hadn't been looking forward to – the Broodmother. I didn't relish the thought of seeing that in real life. Or seeing Hespith. Honestly, I hoped we could just get to the Anvil and get out.

_First day they come and catch everyone._

I looked around. Hespith wasn't here... so why was I hearing her rhyme? I kept walking. Probably just my imagination.

_Second day they beat us and eat some for meat._

Ok, I _know_ I heard that. I looked around again. Nobody here but us.

"Something troubling you?" Morrigan asked.

_Third day the men are all gnawed on again._

"Did you hear that?" I asked. The party turned to look at me.

"Hear what?" Elisa asked.

_Fourth day we wait and fear for our fate._

"That!"

"What?"

_Fifth day they return and it's another girl's turn._

"There it is again! Why aren't you hearing this?"

_Sixth day her screams we hear in our dreams._

"Ven, what are you talking about?"

"Seventh day she grew as in her mouth they spew."

They heard it that time. We all turned towards the source of the voice. Hespith had emerged from a side passage, perhaps having heard us talking, perhaps just wandering aimlessly. She didn't seem to have noticed us.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Elisa called.

"Eighth day we hated as she was violated," Hespith kept saying to herself.

Elisa rushed over to her and dropped to one knee. "Are you from Branka's expedition?"

"Ninth day she grins and devours her kin," Hespith said, and turned to look at Elisa. Her eyes were dull and blank, turning grey from the taint. Her skin was mottled, almost rotting. Elisa lurched backwards involuntarily, startled by the tainted dwarf.

"Now she does feast, as she's become the beast," Hespith recited.

"Who are you?" Elisa asked, "What happened?"

"My name... is Hespith," she said haltingly, "I am from her expedition. She came for the Anvil. She could not be stopped. But you are not really here. Just another dream. Just another nightmare."

"Where is Branka?" Elisa pressed.

"I was her captain and I did not stop her," Hespith rambled on, "Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her... but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become."

"What did she do?" Elisa grabbed Hespith, trying to shake the dwarf out of her stupor. Hespith remained blank. Elisa slowly let go, and the dwarf turned and left. Elisa was silent, watching Hespith stumble away.

"She... she's tainted, isn't she?" Elisa said.

"No doubt about it," Alistair replied.

"Branka... what've you done?" Oghren muttered to himself. We set off after Hespith, but she had disappeared.

"She became obsessed," Hespith's voice echoed through the halls, "That is the word but it is not strong enough."

We followed the voice, always seeming like it was just around the corner, forever leading us deeper underground.

"They took us all, turned us..." the voice was saying, "The women, they want. They want to touch, to mould, to change until you are filled with them."

Elisa slowed.

"They made her eat the others. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood."

Elisa was walking now. Alistair went to her side. The tunnel became rougher, and darkspawn corruption became visible on the walls and floor.

"While she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them," Hespith droned on. Elisa paused at the next bend. I knew she didn't want to see what was there.

"They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them."

Elisa slowly rounded the corner.

A massive, repulsive thing sat in the middle of the cavern. Its skin was a sickly grey colour, glistening like rotted flesh. The top was like an afterthought, stubby vestigial arms and neckless head perched atop a gelatinous mass of fat. It had many nipples, a gross parody of the female form. Huge, slimy tentacles protruded from the monster. It had no lips, revealing a broken, permanent grin. It writhed repulsively in the darkspawn filth.

"Broodmother."

Elisa stared.

"This... thing," she said, "It's... one of the dwarves?"

"It's what the darkspawn do to their captives," Malcolm said grimly. "What the taint does."

"This is may be why there aren't more female Grey Wardens," Elisa said.

A tentacle burst from the ground and shot towards Elisa. Alistair darted in front of her and deflected it with his shield.

"Sorry, but we really don't have time for this!" he yelled. Elisa snapped out of her stupor and drew her swords. Another tentacle sprouted near me, but I hacked it away with the Green Blade. Meanwhile Morrigan sent a bolt of lightning into the Broodmother's flabby chest, searing a hole into it. The angry monster sent two tentacles after Morrigan, ready to squeeze the life out of her. I raised my hand, and a translucent sphere surrounded her. The tentacles wrapped it in their bone-crushing grip, and I dropped to one knee again. Morrigan gathered up her power and released an explosion of magic, shattering the shield and pulverizing the tentacles.

"Come on Ventus, focus!" she dragged me to my feet. I slashed another tentacle. I saw Malcolm throw his javelins at the beast, but they may as well have been toothpicks. He attempted to charge the monster, but had to roll aside as one of its tentacles lashed out.

"We just can't get through!" Alistair shouted, ducking behind his shield as the Broodmother spat acid at him. It let loose an ear-splitting scream, sending pain lancing through my head. Then I felt the tentacle slam into me, and I was sent flying. I painfully turned over. Morrigan was keeping one at bay with a flamethrower from her staff, but a second shot up behind her and slammed into her. Alistair was being beaten back, never with enough room to counterattack. Malcolm had his spear wrenched from his hand, and his mace barely seemed to make a dent in its flabby flesh. Elisa was alone in the centre of the room, on one knee. She'd dropped her off-hand sword somewhere, but she held Topsider's Honour in a death-grip.

"That's where they come from."

Elisa looked up, and so did I. Hespith was standing above us on an outcropping, as blank and unresponsive as ever.

"That's why they hate us... that's why they need us," she went on. Elisa looked at the writhing Broodmother.

"That's why the take us... that's why they feed us."

Elisa's hand clenched around the hilt of Topsider's Honour.

"I'll become... one of them?" she whispered to herself.

"But the true abomination is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed."

Elisa planted both feet on the ground.

"Branka... my love..."

She slowly stood up straight.

"The stone has punished me, dream friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal."

Elisa looked up at Hespith again. The tainted dwarf finally seemed to recognize Elisa, and made eye contact. She slowly backed away, arms held wide, and toppled off the edge. To her death.

Elisa looked down. Her head slowly turned back to the Broodmother. Her empty hand clenched.

"Branka let this happen to you," she said.

"Elisa!" I called, and threw the Green Blade. Elisa caught it without looking. She slowly lowered both blades.

"I'm sorry about this..."

She charged. The Broodmother sent all of her tentacles at her. The first Elisa dodged, letting it pass close by her left side. Flipping the Green Blade into a reverse grip she rammed it into the appendage and kept moving, the enchanted blade gouging a bloody path. She dodged the second, spinning away and brining both blades up for a punishing double-bladed overhead strike. The severed tentacle flopped on the ground, the mutilated one wobbled uselessly, but she wasn't done. The third tentacle came after her. She ducked and rolled beneath it, hacking into it with a reverse-bladed slice from Topsider's Honour as she rose.

She reached the main body as the fourth tentacle attacked. She dodged aside yet again and rammed the Green Blade into the monster's chest, as deep as she could thrust. The beast howled, but wasn't dead. Elisa leaped back from the beast and paused. She dropped into a crouch, sheathed her sword and sprinted.

Reaching the Broodmother she planted a foot in its flab and climbed. The Broodmother didn't even have time to react as she did, scampering up the monster, using the handle of the Green Blade as a foothold. By the time it had retaliated her foot was leaving the top of the monster's head. Elisa dangled from a handhold above the monster's head, and drew Topsider's Honour again.

"...but you need to die," she declared.

She let go. Elisa dropped out of the air and back onto the Broodmother. She held Topsider's Honour in both hands, blade held above her head at a ninety degree angle from her body, facing the Broodmother. The blade hit the top of its skull and kept going, like a hot knife through butter. Elisa's fall was slowed, but not stopped. The blade cut deep and fast through the bloated beast, leaving great fountains of tainted blood where it went. Elisa hit the ground and stayed there.

The Warden turned to face the rest of us. She placed Topsider's Honour in the crook of her left elbow and slowly drew the blade across, wiping it clean. She walked away, slowly sheathing her new weapon. Behind her, the Broodmother slowly fell to the ground, one half in each direction.

Elisa's bronze eyes glared out from a face soaked in tainted blood.

"We have a Paragon to find."


	19. Chapter 18: The Darkness Inside

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; as our hero finds himself seeing and hearing things that aren't there, Elisa discovers the source of Broodmothers and resolves to find Branka as soon as possible._

_Music; _http: /www. Youtube .com /watch?v= oFEet4Iz Jus _(remove the spaces) at the italicized 'Good'._

http: /www .youtube .com/ watch?v =iUMEzU Mcu64&feat ure=related _(remove spaces) when Elisa says "I'm glad you asked."_

* * *

I retrieved my sword from the Broodmother's body with some difficulty. Elisa cleaned the tainted blood off herself as best she could, but the glint in her eye remained. We continued on, and came across the road to the Anvil of the Void. We stepped across the threshold, and the way back closed off as I predicted. We turned towards it, and saw Branka standing above us.

"Forgive me for being blunt," the Paragon said, "But after so long in the deeps I have little time for social graces."

"Well shave my back and call me an elf! Branka? By the Stone, I barely recognized you!" Oghren exclaimed gleefully.

"Oghren. I thought you'd find your way here," Branka's tone was cold, as if Oghren were merely an acquaintance. I could see Oghren's brow furrow in confusion.

She looked to Elisa, "And how should I address you, who glares at me like a piece of filth? Hired sword for the latest lordling to come for me? Or the only one that could stand Oghren's ale-breath?"

"Be respectful, woman! She's a Grey Warden!" Oghren exclaimed.

"Ah, an _important_ errand girl," Branka said dryly. "So... why are you here?"

"I need a king in Orzammar," Elisa replied, her cool tone showing remarkable restraint.

"A king?" Branka repeated, like the word was something dirty, "I don't care if the assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne. Not while our most prized treasure, the thing that made our armies great, lies lost on the Deep Roads."

"Oh, the Anvil?" Elisa said, "It's taken you a long time. Maybe you should give up."

"Are you insane?" Branka shouted, "The Anvil could win the war with the darkspawn for us! We should be willing to pay ANY price to retrieve it!"

"Funny. Hespith thought otherwise."

Branka went red. "I see, Warden. I should have known you wouldn't understand the severity of the situation."

"What I _understand_ is that you let your house get captured by the darkspawn," Elisa replied, "And for what?"

"The Broodmothers create darkspawn," Branka remarked, "I needed bodies to test Caridin's traps. They were perfect."

Elisa clenched her fists. Branka turned and left.

"What happened to her?" Oghren wondered. "Did the Deep Roads really change her that much?"

"We need to find her. Now," Elisa said shortly.

We turned down the long passageway. We advanced, but as we moved further I felt a sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. I stopped for a moment.

"What is that?" I asked, holding my hand to my mouth.

"This again?" Elisa asked, turning.

"Pay no mind," Morrigan replied, holding me steady. "You are simply sensing the lyrium running through the stone."

"And you're fine?"

"I did not become a mage two months ago," Morrigan pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah."

Oghren took a long, deep breath, "Hmmmm... yeah, that's it. High-quality lyrium. Lots of it. We must be getting close."

"Mind you don't trip over the thousands of dwarves Branka got killed for this expedition," Elisa said darkly. Nobody commented on that. Elisa, Alistair and Malcolm took point, and carved their way through the darkspawn with ease. We soon came across the first of Caridin's obstacles – the room that fills with poison gas. The door, predictably, slammed shut behind us. Poisonous green gas slowly filtered into the room. Then, just to top things off, the golems in the room started waking up.

"How long can everyone hold their breaths?" Elisa asked as the gas spread. We bunched up. Ok, come on, think! You did that thing with the shield earlier. Come on...

Just like the healing. Focus on what you're trying to do.

We need some space...

I punched my fists together. A sphere of wind burst from the point of contact, rapidly expanding to cover all of us. Elisa looked back at me.

"Nice trick," she commented. The sphere of air spun and wobbled around us. Oghren poked it, and it wobbled dangerously.

"I _really_ don't feel well," I said weakly. "I don't think I can do this for long."

"Oh, it's ok," Elisa said as the golems bore down on us. "Plenty of time."

The first one punched down. We scattered, but I couldn't move far. Its fist crashed down at my feet and I stumbled. I heard people coughing. They'd breathed the gas. I stood, and looked up at the golem. It raised its fist for another strike.

I felt Morrigan's hand on my shoulder.

The golem's fist hit my barrier and stayed. There was an ear-splitting grinding noise as the air rushed against its fist like a physical thing. I could see chips of stone flying off in all different directions. Finally the golem reeled back, half its hand eroded away. I looked at Morrigan.

"No time! Again!" Morrigan ordered. I steeled myself, and I felt Morrigan's power flow through me again. The shield expanded, pushing the gas away. Where it touched my friends the air barely moved their hair. The golems, on the other hand, were forced backwards. The gas was forced back, leaving the room clear.

"Well that was convenient," I panted.

"Shut up," Morrigan said irritably. Meanwhile, Elisa darted between the four levers that controlled the door out, pulling them all. Without a backwards glance we all rushed out, and Elisa shut the door behind us.

"So, what exactly did you do?" she asked me.

"His powers are weak alone," Morrigan explained. "But I can add mine to his – 'tis how we saved Leliana."

"So... does that only work with mages?" Elisa asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not a font of knowledge about these things."

"Anyway, we need to get to the Anvil."

We continued. For better or for worse, the random out-of-place statue fight was missing. Maybe Branka's lemmings had taken care of that. At any rate, we soon found ourselves entering the Anvil's cavern. It was massive, the ceiling stretching so high above us it was hard to see the top. The cavern was lit by the orange flicker of the magma that bubbled below and the blue glow of lyrium. I suppressed another wave of nausea. Being a mage sucks.

We went further in. Four golems stood silent in the centre of the room. On the other side stood a metal golem, taller even than the stone ones. It was Paragon Caridin.

"Stop, whoever you are. I would speak with you, before it became too late," he boomed.

"It can... talk?" Malcolm asked.

"Just deal with it," Alistair told him.

"We're Grey Wardens," Elisa replied, indicating Alistair and Malcolm as she did. "Mind telling me why you can talk?"

"I am Paragon Caridin," the golem introduced himself. "And you must not let the one named Branka take the Anvil."

"You are in no place to decide that."

We turned. Branka strode into the cavern, looking smugly satisfied. She carried a shield embossed with her house crest and a mace slung on her belt. In her right hand she held a golem control rod. I could practically see Caridin recoil at the sight of it.

"I will have the Anvil. The dwarves will reclaim their former glory," she declared.

"You say this, not knowing the cost," Caridin retorted. "Warden, golems are created with an unspeakable act. I created the Anvil, not knowing that it consumed dwarven lives for its craft. It took feeling the hammer's blow myself to understand the error of my ways."

"Foolishness," Branka spat. "To cast aside an invincible army for such trivial reasons. With the Anvil, we could take back the lost thaigs! We could be great again!"

"The dwarf has a point," Morrigan added. "We need every advantage we can get in this war."

Elisa said nothing for a while. She stared at Branka until the dwarf woman met her gaze.

"Lead by example then, Branka," Elisa said coolly. "Let's have Caridin make you a golem."

"You have no right!" Branka thundered.

"Then neither do you," the Warden said simply. "I stand with you, Caridin."

"Come on, Warden," Oghren pleaded. "Don't do this. We can't just... kill her."

"She won't back down, Oghren. We have to," Elisa said with forced calm.

Branka brandished the control rod. Caridin stiffened, locked out of the fight. The four golems activated... and rounded on us.

"This will suck," I said.

The golems advanced. Morrigan threw a fireball. It impacted on its chest, forcing it back a step, but not stopping it. We hacked at the constructs with our weapons, but we couldn't even dent them. We scattered, using our superior mobility to stay out of harm's reach. Oghren was left standing alone, facing Branka.

"Let me pass, Oghren," she commanded. Oghren shook his head.

"You're not giving me a choice, Branka," he replied, hefting his warhammer.

I ducked past Malcolm as he bashed at a golem's leg with his mace, ending up near Elisa. She had backed up to the cliff edge, and below her was a massive drop straight into the lava pit. She stood her ground, staring down the golem as it came after her. When it raised a fist to strike she rolled between its legs. It spun to attack, and I whacked it with the Green Blade. The sword just bounced off, and I had to drop clumsily to avoid the follow-up. Elisa smacked it around the torso with everything she had. She was trying to drive it off the cliff.

The golem drove a knee into Elisa's chest. Her enchanted Legion must have absorbed a lot of the force, but it winded her badly. She dropped to her knees, struggling to breathe. The golem lifted its leg to squash her flat. I raced in front of her and threw up my hands.

Its foot hit my shield with an ear-splitting scraping sound. Sparks flew where the stone touched the swirling energy. I crumpled, crushed by its strength. Suddenly I felt an arm wrap around my midsection. Elisa pressed her shoulder into my back and pushed as hard as she could. I pushed against the golem with renewed strength. The two of us managed to push it back, and with a flash the shield collapsed, leaving the golem teetering on the edge.

Elisa hit it with a powerful kick, sending it plummeting into the magma. We caught our breaths.

"You didn't tell it this was Ferelden," I said.

"That was a one-off."

We turned back. Alistair and Malcolm were smashing at the golems with all their might, but they couldn't break stone. To my left I saw Morrigan enveloping the third golem in a plume of fire. The construct was red-hot, sparks flying with every movement. Morrigan stopped the bombardment, obviously tired. I raced to her side, and Elisa went to the other Wardens. I helped Morrigan steady herself, and she prepared another spell. I tried to call on that link Morrigan had talked about, and it worked. As pure freezing cold poured from here staff, I felt my energy flowing into the spell. The golem's movements slowed as its superheated rock contracted. Cracks split its stony skin, until eventually it just fell apart. Basic science – rapidly cool hot rock, and it cracks.

"Think you can do that two more times?" I asked.

"I think that would spend us both," Morrigan replied. I looked over to where Branka and Oghren were fighting. Idea.

I raced towards the pair. Husband and wife were fighting a rather reluctant duel, which I interrupted. By tackling Branka. To the surprise of all involved, really. The two of us rolled over and over, and Branka lashed out furiously. Being that her mace wasn't suited to being this close, and I was the one with claws, I had the advantage. Said claws bit into the mail protecting her right arm and drew blood, causing the woman to cry out in pain. Using the moment, I wrenched away. Branka stood, mad as hell, before realizing.

I had stolen her control rod.

"Golems, stop!" I yelled.

The golems stopped mid-movement. The fighting stopped.

"Ok, now we're getting somewhere," I said. "Golems, deactivate."

They became statues once again. While Branka was distracted Malcolm knocked her down and held her there. I twirled the control rod triumphantly. I'd saved the day! Then I dropped it.

"You have done me a great service," Caridin said, free to move once again. "I will grant you whatever you desire."

"Orzammar needs a king," Elisa replied.

"Then I shall fashion a crown. You will decide which candidate it will adorn."

"That's what I was afraid of. But, could you do something else as well?"

Caridin worked quickly. He shaped the metal with ease and care, and soon the crown emerged from the Anvil. Caridin handed the crown to Elisa, as well as something else that she pocketed. Alistair and I stood beside her as she inspected the crown. We looked up to see Caridin standing at the edge.

"Thank you, Warden," he said, and jumped. The cavern was silent.

"Damn it," Elisa said quietly.

"Well..." I said, "Time to destroy the Anvil."

Elisa picked up the smithing hammer. It was heavy, even for her. She strained to lift it over her head to deliver the final blow to that damn Anvil.

"NO!"

Branka smashed her head into Malcolm's nose. While the Chasind Warden was reeling she snatched up his throwing axe. She charged up the stone steps towards the Anvil and us.

"YOU WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME!" She screamed, and threw the axe.

Elisa brought the hammer down.

There was a bright flash of blue-white light. The shockwave burst out, sending us all stumbling.

I felt something hit me in the chest.

It was Malcolm's axe.

I hit the ground.

Elisa and Alistair staggered to their feet. It took them a while to see me, the axe protruding from my sternum. I tried to move, but white-hot pain lanced through me. I cried out.

"Ven!"

The ground cracked. The explosion had destabilized the outcropping. It was about to crumble into the lava Elisa bent down and scooped me up, eliciting another scream of agony. Branka ran past us. She dropped to her knees by the shattered remains of the Anvil. Elisa stopped and turned.

"The Anvil is mine!" Branka ranted. "Mine!"

Elisa watched. I expected her to call out, try to save her. She didn't. Elisa watched and waited until it crumbled. Branka was lost in the lava. Just like Caridin. Elisa stood at the edge, holding me.

Her head jerked up.

"Darkspawn," she and Alistair said together.

"Come on, we have to go!" Elisa yelled, "That explosion told all the darkspawn where we are!"

"What about Ventus?" Morrigan asked.

"We'll do what we can, but we don't have time!"

I felt the most piercing agony in the world when the axe was pulled out of me. Elisa had given me her glove to bite on, but my muffled screams were still audible. They bandaged it as best they could and Morrigan gave it a shot of healing magic, but it wasn't enough.

Elisa lifted me up onto her back.

"Come on Ven, grab hold. Come on, tight. Stay with me. Stay awake!" Elisa kept talking to me. I wrapped my arms around her neck with the strength of a kitten. The party set off at a run, and not a moment too soon. Darkspawn were pouring from every cave and crevice, all after our blood. We ran back through the trapped room and out towards the Dead Trenches.

"Not that way!" Elisa skidded as she turned away from another advancing darkspawn horde. We made it back to the crevasse where we had met the Legion of the Dead, and they noticed our arrival. More to the point, the darkspawn army on our heels.

My vision was blurring. I wanted to sleep. Needed to sleep. Sleep would make everything better. The pain would go away. It would all be better.

"Stay awake!" Elisa yelled, jolting me awake. Blood was running down the back of her armour.

"Wardens always find trouble," Duran said flatly when we reached the Legion's lines.

"Get a healer for him!" Elisa ordered, sliding me off her back. Legionnaires grabbed me and passed me back through the lines. Morrigan followed me, hands glowing with a nimbus of healing light held over my chest. She was holding back the bleeding, but the wound wasn't closing.

They laid me on my back. The pain was receding now. The whole world was. It shrank and shrank until it was just the little patch of stone I lay on. Sounds dulled until all I heard was my breathing and the slow beat of my heart. Growing slower.

I don't want to die. Did I say that out loud?

Time stood still, and a figure appeared before me. The same shadowy figure that had followed me down here. It was slowly approaching, passing the frozen figures of the dwarves without a sideways glance. I couldn't describe it – it seemed to shift from male to female with every step. Its paces seemed to cover more distance than should have been possible. It stopped, standing over me.

_Do you fear death?_

I nodded.

_I can help you. I can make you strong_.

It extended a shadowy hand.

_I can give you your heart's desire. _

I slowly, laboriously reached up. My hand, encased in the clawed armour, clasped the figure's hand.

_Good._

* * *

My body rose. It rose at an impossible angle, as if drawn by an invisible puppeteer. I slowly righted, and stood hunched over. Slowly, oh so slowly, I stretched out. I felt my muscle, my sinew, my blood. I felt the wound in my chest close, without even a scar. I stood tall. The boy's body was mine now.

I slowly opened my eyes. They glowed with an inner fire, a deep green colour. I raised my right hand and inspected it. Just as I thought, the armour had been almost fully corrupted. I flexed the clawed fingers, felt the way it moved. It felt good to have a body at my command.

In the centre of my palm a bright light burned, like a miniature star had become lodged in my hand. A stream of energy ran from it like an artery, flowing up my arm. It split and fanned out, following the crevices and contours of the armour. I slowly took my first, shaky step.

"Ventus?" A woman said. I ignored her. She was inconsequential. The darkspawn – those putrid masses – were the ones that needed to be dealt with. They threatened my new body. I would not let this insult stand.

"He's a demon!" a dwarf cried. My new mouth twitched ever-so-slightly into a smile. How right the dwarf was.

"Don't touch him!" the same woman ordered. The dwarves parted in front of me. All except one. One miserable dwarf got it into his head that he could stop me. I would have laughed, but the boy's body was still unfamiliar to me. The dwarf only saw a faint twitch of my mouth before he died.

The empty suit of charred armour collapsed with a loud clatter. A dwarven skull rolled out of the helmet, disintegrating into ash as it did. I casually shifted it out of the way. The rest wisely backed away after that display of my power. But I had need of one more.

As I passed I clamped my hand over the helmet of another. He struggled and fought, but it was not enough. I dragged the struggling Legionnaire out of the crowd and stood before the advancing darkspawn horde. There was a wet explosion, and the dwarf went limp. Blood was leaking from his ruptured head, but not a drop hit the floor. I let the dead dwarf drop, and raised my hand. Bright blood slowly pooled in my hand, a shimmering sphere of blood. My new mouth twitched again.

I splayed my hand, and the globe of blood split into five. They hovered through the air, arraying themselves before me. A simple gesture, and they changed. Five long spears of blood waited on my command. A flick of my wrist, and they flew.

No ordinary spears would have caused such carnage. Whole lines of darkspawn were impaled as the blood spears bored through armour and flesh like paper. Only one of the creatures reached me, a Vanguard. It swung its massive greatsword in a wide back-hand arc. It stopped dead, caught in my armoured palm. I met the creature's gaze.

The blade snapped. I grabbed it by the head. Its brains exploded out the back of its head. I let the creature fall, and looked up. The horde parted to allow an ogre to pass. The dumb animal blinked at me, and roared a challenge. I stood my ground. The wind swirled around my hand.

It took the first lumbering steps of its charge. I slashed the air with my claws.

The creature stopped, seemingly confused. It didn't understand what had happened. By the time it did, it had fallen into three pieces. Blood pumped from the dead hunks of meat it had become. Precious blood.

"Ven, stop!" another woman called. I heard her take steps towards me. I whirled and swung my arm. A line of flame was drawn in the stone between us. The air around that flame shifted, and the fire reacted. An explosion lifted her off her feet and sent her sprawling. I turned back. They would wait.

The darkspawn would fear my power. All would fear it.

I slowly dropped to one knee. Extending a clawed finger I drew a sign in the stone. Once it had been completed, the darkspawn were almost upon me. I pressed my palm against it.

The bridge shattered completely. Stone split and disintegrated, hurled apart by my power. Stone and darkspawn plummeted into the crevasse. The horde was separated from us by a large divide. They were no longer a threat.

But they would be punished.

"Ven, that's enough!" the woman called. "We're safe now, you can stop."

"N...o," it was hard to form words. "No... one... stops..."

I raised a hand. A bright fireball was collecting in my palm, burning like a sun.

"All... must... die," I croaked.

A hand grabbed my arm. I turned to face the one that dared stop me, dared challenge me. Pale yellow eyes met my own.

* * *

"No," Morrigan said.

The fireball disappeared. I breathed again. I looked in her eyes.

"What..." I tried to speak, "What did I do?"

I looked out at the crowd. They stared in awe and fear. I collapsed.

* * *

_The platform, floating in the endless abyss in my mind. The door is weak now, oh so weak. A single chain remains to bind it. The glass is black now, black save a single sliver of colour. There is barely any light at all. _

This is your own doing.

_The speaker appeared from the shadows. He was wearing a black cloak, and a hood obscured his features. _

All this time, you never questioned its power.

_I touched my armour. _

Every time you use that plate, you weakened the seal. If you use it once more, she will have won. Your mind will be lost forever in the Fade.

"_Who are you!" I yelled._

Look at my face. Who do you see?

_The man raised his hood._

* * *

I woke up in Orzammar. I had been tied to one of the donkeys for the return trip. None of the Legion had come with us, or at least none that I could see. Morrigan let me down, but refused to meet my gaze. None of them would. I stumbled into the assembly room behind them.

"I call for a vote right now!" Bhelen was declaring, "Let us end this farce here and now!"

"Or you could listen to someone intelligent!" Elisa said. All eyes turned to her. "I believe I have the authority for a situation like this."

"Ah, Warden. You're back," Harrowmont said, relieved. "Where is Paragon Branka?"

"Dead before she could find the Anvil," Elisa said. "But that's not the point. The point is, Orzammar needs a new king. A king you can't choose."

"But what gives you the authority?" the master of the assembly demanded. "What gives you the right?"

"I'm glad you asked," Elisa replied, and produced Caridin's crown from her pack. "You see, Paragon Caridin gave me this. It lets me pick whichever one I want."

The assembly let out a collective gasp. They recognized Cairdin's seal on the crown.

"I assure you, Warden," Harrowmont said, rising from his seat, "I take no joy in this – but I must serve my city."

"One question; will you abolish the caste system?" Elisa asked casually.

"Wha- well, no!" Harrowmont spluttered, caught off-guard.

"Then sit back down," Elisa said coolly.

"I see you've finally come to your senses, Warden," Bhelen said triumphantly, standing up. "Give me the crown. I'll drag this city back to the modern age. "

"Keep your royal ass in the seat," the Warden snapped, "This crown isn't going anywhere near your head."

"I- what!"

"You see, I met a certain someone down in the Deep Roads," Elisa said, smiling.

"It's been a long time, brother."

Duran Aeducan entered the chamber, Legion helmet held in the crook of his elbow. He glared at Bhelen, and the younger sibling responded in kind.

"But you cannot!" a deshyr argued. "This... traitor was stripped of his name! He is not worthy!"

"Then look at this." Elisa produced a slab of stone and tossed it to the master of the assembly. He caught it, and read. It was a tablet, with lyrium script carved into it. It bore Caridin's seal.

"It is a declaration from Paragon Caridin," the dwarf read. "It judges Duran Aeducan innocent of his accused crimes. He must be reaccepted back into his family."

"NO!" Bhelen roared. "YOU WILL NOT TAKE THIS FROM ME!"

He brandished his mace and charged down from his seat. Duran stood his ground.

Duran had spent the better part of half a year fighting for his life. Bhelen had spent it in the lap of luxury. It was over before it began.

"Stone take you, brother," Duran said as Bhelen fell, his axe embedded in his stomach.

Elisa gave Duran the crown. He held it like it was made of glass, like it would shatter at any moment. Harrowmont stood and moved into the centre of the chamber. He knelt before Duran.

"I always believed in you, my king," Harrowmont said. "I pledge my support to you."

"... Thank you, Pyral," Duran said haltingly. "But you may find your loyalty tested – for I have felt the shame of being castleless, felt the hopelessness of a life without meaning. The dwarves I knew in the Legion were good men. It took becoming one of them to see that our system does not work. "

"This is a fool's errand, my king," Harrowmont warned him. "You will never accomplish it."

"But I can try," Duran replied, looking at Elisa. "That is the best I can do."

* * *

_The abyss in the centre of my mind. _

You are weak.

_I turned. A shadowy figure had appeared on the platform._

You were mine, _she hissed. _I had you. Your will was broken.

"_I can beat you," I said, not believing my own words. "You can't control me."_

_She laughed. _We are more alike than you know. If only you knew... it would break you.

"_What're you talking about?" I yelled. Suddenly the figure was standing right in front of me. She wore a black cloak, and a hood obscured her face. _

Look at me, boy. Whose face you see?

_She lifted her hood. The face that stared back at me was male. His hair was brown, and his green eyes burned with rage. _

Do you even know his name? Do you know the name of the one you enslaved?

I woke up with a start in the party camp. I was standing in the centre. The party lay dead at my feet, killed by my hand. I stared at my blood-soaked hands.

_This is your only future. You will fall. We will have our revenge._

* * *

I woke up screaming. I scrubbed my hands, trying to clean off blood that wasn't there. The party came to me in seconds.

"Ven, what's going on?"

"KEEP AWAY FRO ME!" I yelled. I scrambled away like an animal, stumbling to my feet. I ran for the edge of the clearing the camp lay inside. Elisa caught up to me and grabbed my shoulder.

"STAY AWAY!" I swept my arm across her. Fire burst into existence in the air and knocked her backwards. She cried out and hit the ground. I staggered back, panting. Alistair crouched by her side. The whole party stood there, staring at me.

"Ven," Elisa pleaded. "We can help you."

I looked at them all in turn. For a moment, I really believed it. For a moment I thought they believed in me, thought they could help me keep a hold of myself. But then that hope faded, and I saw the reality of the situation.

"Not anymore," I said.

I ran.


	20. Chapter 19: II The High Priestess

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; with the seal keeping the demon within him at bay breaking down and unable to trust his own senses, our hero flees._

* * *

Am I still awake?

Every time I close my eyes, I open them and I'm in a different place. Whole days go by between blinks. Am I dreaming? Was I ever awake to begin with?

I don't know what happens when I sleep, but I think I can guess. Sometimes when I wake up I taste blood. Usually I find a dead animal not far away. Even this simple fact can't faze me now. I've finally figured it out. It took seeing my reflection for the first time in at least half a year, but I did it. It was a stream running through the forest I travelled through. I crouched to take a drink, and the water reflected my face. There were the things I had expected – a scraggly beard was growing from lack of shaving, my hair was longer and I had that scar over my eye. But there was the other things.

I thought my hair was black. The reflection's were brown. I thought my eyes were blue. The reflection's were green.

It was all a lie. A delusion of grandeur – thinking I'd been brought from another world for some great purpose. I tried casting my mind back to the memories I thought I had of my 'past life'. Even if they were real in some way, they are fading fast now. Murky faces swim in my memory, and remembered pain. Everything else is gone.

At first I didn't accept it. I shouted, threatened, made excuses. In my helpless rage I clawed at a tree, as if destruction would somehow bring me peace. No matter how deep I gouged, I couldn't run from the truth. I truly was a danger.

I think I'm moving south. When I wake up in the mornings the sun is usually to my left. But every day I sleep a little earlier, and wake up a little later. How long until I fall asleep and never wake up? How long until she takes over?

It was growing dark. I was shambling, an exhausted shell of a man. I tripped on a tree root. I didn't even have the energy to react. I sprawled on the forest floor and fell into darkness.

* * *

Why do you cling to life?

"_I don't know."_

Why do you run?

"_I don't know."_

Do you perhaps still believe in something worth living for?

_A thought comes to me, but so slowly, so imperceptibly. I struggle to recall the name. I look down at the platform we stand on, and find her portrait. _

You are part of something greater than you know, _the hooded figure said. _You will come to understand in time.

_The figure raised a hand and produced four cards. He released them, let them hover in the air between us. With a slow sweep of his arm he flipped them so that they faced me. The High Priestess, the Hermit, the Hanged Man and the Tower._

The cards will lead you true,_ the hooded man said. He collected the cards, and in a blink of an eye there was only one._

There are many paths, but they all lead down the same road. _He showed me the last card. _

_Death. _

Answer me. Whose face do you see?

_He raised his hood._

* * *

I woke up. I hadn't moved from where I'd fallen. It was dark, and clouds blocked out both the moon and the stars. I didn't move. I wanted to stay there and die. It started to rain. I shivered in the cold and the wet.

A faint sound. A steady thumping rhythm, like footsteps but different. Getting closer. I still retained some dregs of self-preservation. I struggled to my feet and backed against a tree.

"S-stay away," I warned the darkness, raising my hand. "I'm a mage! I'll burn you all!"

"I sincerely doubt that."

There was a thump, like someone dropping a short distance. I heard a scraping noise, and a flame suddenly flared to life. Its light revealed a familiar horse, and its rider steppe out from behind a tree, sheltering his torch from the flames.

"Well lad?" Malcolm asked. "Are you going to burn me?"

"No..." I let my hand drop. My legs seemed to just give out, and I slid down the tree until I was sitting with my back to it. Malcolm approached and crouched down to my level.

"How did you find me?"

"I grew up in the Wilds, lad," Malcolm replied. "I could track you blindfolded."

"Come to stop me?" I asked. "Stop me from hurting anyone?"

"I'm here to bring you back."

"Why? Am I supposed to believe everyone else wants me back?"

Malcolm didn't respond. He grabbed my hand and hauled me back to my feet. I let him lead me back to Epona without a word. I didn't believe him. I knew this had to be some sort of ruse. Even though in all likelihood he was bringing me to a squad of templars, I went along with it. I deserved as much.

The trip was much shorter than I expected. There was a small camp not far from the road, close by judging by the campfire. Epona trotted towards it, and I spotted four tents and an assortment of travelling packs. One of them was mine judging from the swords hanging off it. Three people were sitting around the fire, about to have their dinner. Malcolm whistled, and they stood.

"Well well, kid. You can really hoof it when you want to," Oghren commented.

"Perhaps he was simply trying to escape your ale-breath?" Zevran suggested.

"Maybe he was too busy gagging from all the lovey-dovey nug-crap that pours out of your mouth," the dwarf replied.

"Now you are just being _mean_, my friend," the elf acted hurt.

"Ventus!"

Wynne looked hugely relieved. She stood there, like she was waiting for me to come to her. I glanced at Malcolm, and he nodded. I hesitantly dropped off Epona and stepped towards Wynne. I hesitated at the edge of the campfire's light.

"We won't hurt you," the old mage promised. I took a slow step, and found myself inside the camp. I averted my eyes. I didn't want to look at them.

"I'm sorry for making you all come this far. I didn't want-"

I felt myself being squeezed, and jumped in surprise. Wynne's arms were wrapped around me in a tight hug, and she didn't seem like she was about to let go.

"H-how can you just _forgive_ me like this!" I couldn't hold back tears anymore. "Why aren't you angry? Why aren't you afraid?"

"We never were," Wynne replied softly. Some sort of instinct took over, and I returned the hug. I hugged her just as tight as she was doing to me. Suddenly I felt something, like a presence. I recoiled in shock. Wynne let me break out of her arms.

"I... I felt something," I said. "Like... a spirit."

Wynne nodded. "I have a spirit inside me, too – a spirit of Faith. It saved me from death at the Tower. I told everyone once you had gone."

"It's like another heartbeat..." I murmured.

"I have often mused on the nature of abominations, Ven," the old mage continued. "I have decided on one thing. It is not the presence of a spirit that defines an abomination, but madness and cruelty. It is because of this I know one thing for certain, Ven."

She gently raised my chin to look me in the eye. "You are not an abomination. We will find a way to help you, and we will do so however we can."

I hugged her again. Tears were flowing again, but this time it was from happiness. I truly couldn't express how grateful I was to Wynne. I silently promised that I would live up to her faith in me.

* * *

_Thou art I... and I am thou._

_The bond thou hast nurtured hath finally matured. _

_The innermost power of the High Priestess Arcana hath been set free._

_You have forged a bond that cannot be broken._

* * *

"This cannot be fair!" Zevran complained. "Why should Ventus be allowed to get so personally acquainted with your magical bosom?"

"You can have a turn if you want," I chuckled, rubbing my eyes.

"Please don't ruin the moment," Wynne asked in a long-suffering tone.

"Too late, it's gone," Oghren butted in, "Enough chit-chat, LET'S DRINK!"

I joined the others around the fire. Malcolm handed me my pack – they'd brought it with them to find me. I had a hundred questions, but for a while I just savoured the normalcy of the meal. We chatted about nothing in particular, and I suddenly found myself wishing I'd gotten to know the others more before. Zevran and Oghren were actually pretty fun to hang out with. Especially when he passed out drunk, I stole his pants and Zevran told him Barkspawn had done it.

Eventually I decided to ask about what had happened after I'd left. Malcolm had volunteered to go after me, Wynne following swiftly. Oghren and Zevran joined at Elisa's suggestion, and the mini-party had set off to find me. Malcolm would ride ahead on Epona to pick up my trail and leave marks for the others to follow, then double back to camp with them each night.

At this point I interjected to ask how Malcolm had got Epona back. On arrival at Orzammar he'd paid a merchant five sovereigns to keep Epona, and promised another five when he got back. When he left some months later the merchant was in the middle of selling her for two. Said merchant reacted badly when Malcolm laid claim to Epona. Apparently the conversation went thusly;

'Look at your men, now back to me, now back at your men, now back to me. Sadly, they aren't me. Look down, back up – I have a party of extremely dangerous warriors at my back. Look at my hand – it's your money purse. Now, back at your men, now back to me; I'm on a horse.'

At which point Malcolm rode off on Epona with the merchant's purse. Fun times were had by all.

To my shock, I found that three weeks had passed since leaving the camp. In fact, we were almost completely back where we started. The Kocari Wilds were mere spitting distance away. We would meet up with Elisa and the others at Haven as soon as possible. Finally we turned in for the night.

But when I pitched my tent a crow flew down and landed on a tree branch next to me. It stared at me as I worked, and its gaze set me on edge. I turned to it, and was about to scare it away when I saw that it had yellow eyes. I paused for a moment.

"Morrigan?" I asked in a hushed voice. The crow disappeared in a puff of midnight-black feathers and smoke. Morrigan stood where it had just seconds before. She pulled a crow feather out of her hair.

"What you did was reckless and foolhardy," Morrigan hissed. "I have half a mind to hit you."

"Why? Because _the demon took control of me_?" I hissed angrily.

"No! Because you have come so close to my mother."

Wasn't expecting that.

"Flemeth's hut lies not a day's travel from here," Morrigan went on. "I know not what brought you here, but you must leave. Now. Flemeth is far too powerful for one such as you."

"But what about her grimoire?" I asked. "What about her possessing you?"

"I am trying to spare your life, fool of a mage," the witch said irritably. "Little else should concern you. At any rate, I am due back with the others soon. I shall see you soon."

There was another puff of feathers and smoke, and a yellow-eyed crow swooped off, melding with the blackness of night. I stood there for a while, thinking. When I went to my tent I was still thinking. By morning, I had come to a decision.

"We're going to kill Flemeth."

"Setting your murder sights rather high for a newcomer, aren't you?" Zevran commented.

"You are insane," Malcolm said flatly.

"Where did this come from?" Wynne asked, confused.

"When we were at the Circle Tower I found Flemeth's grimoire and gave it to Morrigan," I explained. "It told us that Flemeth extends her lifespan by possessing her daughters. Morrigan is in danger as long as Flemeth lives."

"Matricide for a good cause. This sounds like fun," Zevran chuckled.

"What, killing a little old lady?" Oghren sounded disappointed.

"She's the Witch of the Wilds," I went on. "Morrigan learned how to shapeshift from her – there's no telling what she can turn into. Which is why I need you all to help. Morrigan is a member of this party too, and we need her to stop the Blight."

"This is a fool's errand, boy!" Malcolm snapped. "You cannot even _guess_ at her powers."

"I need to do this for Morrigan," I said. Malcolm made a noise of exasperation and stormed off. I looked at the other three.

"Got nothing better to do," Oghren said.

"Killing a lover's mother for her," Zevran repeated. "Heavy risk... but the priiiiiize..."

"I will support you, Ven. I owe you that much," Wynne said. I walked over to where Malcolm stood. He had his back to me, staring out into the trees. I cleared my throat.

"She is... more powerful than you realize," the Warden repeated.

"Malcolm, I need to get to Flemeth's hut," I said carefully, "But I don't know the way. Do you?"

"Of course I do," Malcolm replied flatly. "We lived there our whole lives."

" 'We' ?" I repeated.

"My family."

There was a long silence after that. Suddenly a lot of things clicked. Why Malcolm seemed so bitter about the Wardens, why he was getting so violent and desperate. He had a family that his duty as a Warden had taken him from. I didn't know what to say.

"I need you, Malcolm. Will you help me?" I asked.

Malcolm took a deep breath. He looked down, then finally spoke.

"As you wish."

* * *

It was late in the day when he finally found it. The hut jutted out of the swamp in the small clearing, and the setting sun tinged it orange. Flemeth was already there. I knew her the moment I saw her. I also saw that she had been waiting for us. The witch, her silver hair swept back almost like horns and wearing some sort of armour, waited with her arms folded.

"Visitors? Don't often get visitors in the Wilds," Flemeth remarked. "More importantly, those that have not been invited to my home normally _stay away_."

"We know how you extend your lifespan," I said. "I won't let you have Morrigan."

"Dancing to Morrigan's tune already? My, she does work fast," the witch replied coolly.

"So I should dance to yours?" I retorted.

"Why dance at all? Why not sing?" Flemeth chuckled. "But you overreach yourself, boy."

"No!" I cut her off. "We're going to kill you and keep Morrigan safe. Then we'll stop the Blight. Together."

"I think not."

The Witch smiled. "You should take more care of the company you keep, for a traitor to slip by you unawares..."

Flemeth nodded. It was a gesture of familiarity. I didn't even have time to think about what she had said before I felt a blade on my throat. I held very still. All was so still I could actually hear the noise of the blade scraping the hairs on my chin. I looked over at the traitor.

"I tried to warn you," Malcolm said with a voice full of regret. "I truly did."


	21. Chapter 20: XVI The Tower

_A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; resolving to defeat Flemeth and save Morrigan, our party finds themselves betrayed from within._

_Music (just add to the end of the Youtube address); /_watch?v=iIy85KLfOVU _ Play right as you start reading._

/watch?v=EaAq7X-q-6E _ Play from 'I help the wounded traveller up'_

/watch?v=X4-Y9Fjvdbk _Play from "That's not good."_

/watch?v=4yAVPny6Q10 _Play from 'except for Malcom, of course'._

* * *

"Move and he dies," Malcolm commanded. I couldn't turn my head to look, but I could feel the others freeze in place. Malcolm's spear lay light across my throat, the heavy blade poised to strike. Its wielder stood just off to my left. It felt like the slightest movement would mean my death.

"Why?" I managed to ask, my throat scraping dangerously against the blade as I spoke. Malcolm remained silent. He wasn't looking at me. He couldn't bring himself to look me in the eye.

"Come now Malcolm, do not be rude," Flemeth said with a smirk. "Your friend asked you a question."

"Not this," the Chasind man said quietly. "Anything but this."

"The betrayer has _standards_!" Flemeth exclaimed mockingly. "Then allow me to explain."

The witch strolled towards us, not even giving Malcolm a sideways glance. Her gold eyes fixed on us all in turn, and as her gaze passed over me I felt as if my heart would stop.

"Let me tell you a tale," the old sorceress announced theatrically. "The tale of an unassuming man that once lived not far from here. This man lived a hard life, but he was content, for he had a wife and a daughter that he loved with all his heart."

"Please, no," I heard Malcolm whisper. If Flemeth heard him, she pretended not to.

"And yet this life was not meant to be," the Witch went on. "For one day this man came across a traveller attempting to defend himself from darkspawn. He chose to aid the traveller, and slew five darkspawn with ease. The traveller was impressed by the hunter's skill, and would have perished before his fellows arrived to save him had he not been helped. And what reward did he bestow upon this honourable hunter?"

She fixed Malcolm with a lingering look, "Conscription."

"This man was taken forcibly by the Wardens. He drank of darkspawn blood and survived. Yet he defied his fate and escaped, returning to his family. How long was it, Malcolm?"

"... Three months," the Chasind Warden replied hesitantly.

"No. How long until you agreed to betray your comrades for me?" Flemeth asked with a mocking smile.

"They were _not_ my _comrades_," Malcolm's voice wavered.

"Of course," Flemeth said. "Does this extend to those soldiers you deserted at Ostagar?"

The clearing went very quiet.

"You... you..." Malcolm was struggling for words, the warring emotions clear on his face.

"Your comrades, slaughtered in the field at Ostagar. Are they worthless compared to the family you failed to save-"

"Be silent, witch!" Malcolm yelled.

"Know your place, Malcolm!" Flemeth snapped back. Malcolm recoiled like a scolded dog. Flemeth's gaze returned to us.

"Kill them," she said. "Kill them and your debt is paid."

"Malcolm, wait-" I started.

My armoured hand shot up of its own accord and batted the blade aside. He recovered quickly, but I drew my bastard sword faster than he could react and blocked his retaliatory swing. The traitor Warden flicked my sword aside with the crossguard of his spear and struck with the spiked butt of the weapon. Again I deflected it with my armoured hand.

None of this I did consciously.

I felt pain sear my arm, and dropped my sword. The same inner pressure, threatening to burst from within. I clutched my arm and fell to my knees, feeling power radiate from it. Just like in the Deep Roads.

"Stay back!" I managed to order. The party listened.

Malcolm thrust his spear towards my face. My head jerked aside, and I grabbed the spear by the shaft just behind the crossguard. The wide blade had cut me along the cheek bone, but not seriously. Malcolm pulled, but he couldn't wrench the weapon free.

I could see the glow building around my arm again. A bright green light flickered in and out in the centre of my palm, growing stronger. She was coming back. I tried to force my arm to move, take even a finger off the spear. Nothing. My armoured hand slowly rose and brushed against the cut on my cheek. I brought it in front of my face, and stared at the drops of blood clinging to the metal. I knew the power Malcolm had just let me unleash.

My mouth smiled. My hand rose. I felt the power, just as I had so long ago. Malcolm stiffened, able to let out only a strangled grunt of pain. With a flick of my wrist I forced him to withdraw his spear. I saw Flemeth look on, curious.

"An abomination. My my, today is full of surprises," the Witch remarked.

I was going to do it again. Just like with Zathrian – only this time... I don't know if I can stop it.

_But you don't want to stop it, do you? _

I do! Blood magic is evil.

_Malcolm betrayed you_, _betrayed everyone for his own gain. He deserves to be punished. _

No. Never... I could never control someone like that again-

_But you liked it. Oh, how it excited you. To have them dance for you, to pull their strings. You desire to see all kneel before you. _

I... I...

Malcolm's mind lay before my eyes like an open book. There was nothing I could do but watch as memories flooded into me.

_I help the wounded traveller up. I take his cloak to check his injuries, and recognize his armour. It bears the heraldry of the Grey Wardens. This is a good development – how would a mighty and powerful Warden reward his saviour. If only I had known. Had I known, I would have slit his throat there and then, left him to die with the rest of the monsters. _

_Ferelden has need of Grey Wardens, he says. It needs men of skill, like me. A Warden bears the Right of Conscription. With but a single word he takes my home, my family, everything I have ever held dear. _

Memories fluttered past, like turning pages.

_I am a Grey Warden. The Maker lets me survive their Joining, survive to serve penance for a crime I cannot fathom. Their comforts, their excuses, ring hollow. I leave that night. For all their legendary renown, these Wardens do not even notice my absence until I am halfway to Lothering. _

_What a fool I was. What a fool to think they would not pursue me, let go of their prize. A Warden must give all for their duty. I could never see them again. Never. _

Another rush of thoughts, feelings, regrets.

_I kill again, and again, and again. The darkspawn come at their hated enemy the 'Warden' without a thought for those he protects. I fight until the Wilds themselves are soaked with their tainted blood – blood that now lives within me. Every thrust of my spear allows my family one step further away. Further from danger. Further from me._

"_He is in so much pain."_

Time seemed to halt in its tracks. A figure appeared behind Malcolm, wreathed in shadow. She stood close, staring at me.

"_He is a husk of a man, twisted by hate and bitterness. Why do you recoil at the thought of killing such a mindless puppet?"_

She stroked the frozen Warden's face. _"He would thank you for it."_

My hand twitched. It would be so easy. Make him place the spear point at his throat and push. So simple. So quick. He would be free of his burden, free of his duty.

"No."

The figure seemed confused.

"_No? You obey _me_, boy. This is who he is, and I command you to kill him!"_

"No. There's more, buried deep. I just have to find it."

I forced my way deeper into Malcolm's mind. Layers upon layers of bitter regret surrounded it, like a wall. I dug through. There had to be more. Something strong. Something that couldn't be erased.

_Claire hasn't been eating enough. She looks so small, lying there in her bed. The flickering firelight accentuates every shadow on her face, making her seem like a shrunken skeleton. I look away. Katrina doesn't fare any better. She is thin and tired. The meal was barely enough for one, much less the three of us. It has been a hard season._

_We can't live like this, she says. _

_I know, I say. I look at little Claire for a long time. She is too young, too innocent to suffer such a fate. I go to the door and throw on my cloak. _

_Where are you going?_

_Hunting._

_At night? With winter approaching?_

_I will be fine._

_But what if you aren't? What if-_

_I leave. _

_The cold cuts to the bone and the night is dark, but the Wilds were my cradle. Despite the crunch of snow beneath my boots, the first signs of winter, I press on. I have my javelins. I have my spear. I have everything I need. _

_I find tracks. Large tracks. A bear, preparing to hibernate for the winter. I follow the tracks to its lair. The cave is large, and extends deep into the side of a cliff, but the bear is not there. I wait, lying in the snow, motionless, soundless. The cold is irrelevant. Only one thing is important. _

_I hear the heavy tread as the beast returns. I remain calm. I let it pass me by so close I could reach out and touch its bristly hide. When the time is right, I strike. My spear sinks into the folds of its throat. A good strike. The bear roars, berserk with anger and fear as its blood drains away. It catches me in the shoulder, and I stumble. The beast rises on its hind legs, bellows its challenge. I feel no fear. I lunge forward and drive my spear into its heart. _

_The bear's carcass is fat and heavy. Perfect. Tying it to my chilled and battered body, I make the journey home. It is an anvil on my back, each step a struggle. I forge on. _

_The sun is rising above the horizon when I return. Katrina is there at the entrance, waiting for me. Her face, clouded with concern, brightens with delight when she discovers my safe return. I feel her warm embrace, and return it gladly. She helps me take the carcass in, and sets about preparing a breakfast. _

_Claire is awake. She rushes to me the moment I set foot in the house, nearly knocking me over. She hugs me tight, and I wince at fresh pain from the wound left by the bear. She chatters about how worried she was about me, how she didn't want me to put myself in danger like that. She actually apologises for being sick. I tell her not to worry. Katrina and I make breakfast. _

_It's another long day, and we all have our jobs to do. I have not slept since the previous night, but I don't complain. I don't want her to see me like that. _

_At last the day is over and Claire goes to bed. Katrina and I sit quietly, waiting for her to finally fall asleep._

_My kill won't be enough. Katrina realizes I will have to go searching for food again many times this winter. It will be hard. It is always hard. _

"_So, what have you discovered?"_

_And suddenly I'm back in my body. I'm standing inside Malcolm's memory, in his home in the Wilds. I'm close enough to reach out and touch his past self, but he can't see me. The demon stands beside me. _

"_You have changed nothing," she says triumphantly. "You see the pain and suffering he has to endure daily? Forcing himself through exhaustion and pain simply to keep himself alive?"_

_Malcolm is slumped over the table, fighting off sleep. His wife is talking to him, but I can't hear the words anymore. _

"_So, tell me. Was it worth it?" the demon sneers at my side. _

_Malcolm slowly struggles to his feet and I follow him to Claire's bedroom. I see him stop in the doorway and look inside at his sleeping daughter. It's the first time I have ever seen Malcolm smile. It's a smile that extends to his entire face, erasing the lines of his exhaustion and age. It's then I realize that this memory feets different. The others were cold, and empty. This feels warm, like the sun on my face. It seems to pulse with a life of its own. Like a heartbeat, keeping him alive._

"_It was to him," I say._

And with that, I was back in the real world. The demon was gone. The pain in my arm was gone. I slowly lowered my hand and released my control over Malcolm. He shook his head, dazed and confused. Flemeth raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have to do this, Malcolm," I said, new strength in my voice. "We can help you."

"No. You cannot!" Malcolm raised his voice in helpless anger. "You are _nothing_! I will return to my family, and you will stand aside or be _cut down_!"

"And what would Claire think of that?" I demanded. There was a deathly silence.

"Wha... how..." he struggled to speak. "How do you know that name!"

"Look at yourself!" I yelled. "Doing this is as much a betrayal to Claire and Katrina as it is to us!"

Malcolm's spear wavered.

"I promise, Malcolm. We'll help you find them," I pleaded.

I looked at Malcolm. Malcolm looked at Flemeth. Flemeth looked at me.

Malcolm lowered the spear.

"I... I cannot..." he said, backing away. "You cannot make me do this."

"As you wish," Flemeth said dismissively. "We shall have words later, Malcolm. For now, _I_ will deal with our guests."

"Malcolm!" I called. The Warden didn't turn. He walked away.

"Well then," Flemeth said. "It appears I am left to deal with you. Let us finish this, then. It is a dance old Flemeth knows well."

She casually walked towards a clearing beside her hut. I didn't know what she was about to do, but I knew it couldn't be good. I snatched up my sword and charged towards her, despite shouted warnings from Wynne. There was a sudden rush of air and intense heat, and I was bowled over. I rolled over on the grass and stood up to see Flemeth change. No longer a harmless old woman, a great horned dragon rose in a whirlwind of flame.

"That's not good," I said.

"Now THIS is what I'm talking about!" Oghren exclaimed happily from behind me.

"Scatter!" Zevran's order didn't come a moment too soon. We all charged off in separate directions as a stream of fiery breath scorched the ground where we had stood. The dragon leaped, and landed with a bone-shattering _thud_ in the middle of us. I darted back, away from the slashing talons and the swinging tail. Zevran threw knives at the monster, one after another, but could find no weak point on her scales.

"Wynne, see if you can pin her down!" I called as a fruitless strike bounced off an armoured hind leg. Wynne raised her staff, glowing with magical energy. Flemeth's tail whipped out, and Wynne would have been killed if Oghren hadn't knocked her to the ground. The dragon raised a foreleg to crush the dwarf, but he jumped backwards at the last second. His hammer came down with earth-shattering power, cracking Flemeth's scales.

"Does anybody have a plan?" I asked.

"You're huge!" Oghren roared in the throes of his berserker rage. "That means you have HUGE guts! Rip and tear, RIP AND TEAR YOUR GUTS!"

"Thanks for that."

Flemeth reared back, calling up her fire again. I was ready to run again when Wynne stepped forward. She swung her staff sharply upwards, and a wall of stone ripped itself out of the ground in front of us. The stone glowed from the sheer heat of the flame, nearly unbearable even behind cover, but it protected us from the worst of it. When Flemeth's breath had exhausted itself Wynne retaliated. A few vicious jabs with her staff and pieces broke from the barrier to shoot towards the dragon like spears. Flemeth recoiled in pain. More fractures appeared in her tough scales.

"Yes, it's working!" I exclaimed.

Flemeth took flight. The massive downblast of air from those great leathery wings was enough to bowl me over. The dragon let out an ear-splitting roar as it passed, and flew on. I scrambled to my feet.

"Cowardly lizard's running away!" Oghren shouted, disappointed. Then Flemeth banked sharply and flew back towards us. As she drew closer, I could see her breathing in deeply. This wouldn't end well.

"Wynne, hold up your staff!" I ordered. I don't know if Wynne knew what I was planning, but she did it all the same. I beckoned Zevran and Oghren closer, and waited. Flemeth was about to let loose her flame breath. I grasped Wynne's staff and closed my eyes.

It was there, just as I'd expected. Even with my eyes closed I could 'see' Wynne there, feel the magic inside her. I sensed the spirit of Faith, felt its power. With difficulty, I sent my power flowing down my arm like a current, into Wynne's staff. It touched the mage's, and the connection felt like electricity. I opened my eyes to see bright orange flame spew from the dragon's toothy maw, but I was ready.

The fire never reached us. It looked like it was simply rolling over an invisible sphere, spilling harmlessly across the grass. A shield made of wind surrounded us, spinning faster than the eye could see. Where they touched, the flames simply vanished. The sky darkened as Flemeth passed over us, and the shield dissipated. My knees buckled, but Wynne helped me stay upright.

"I think you'll have to do most of the work next time," I said weakly.

"I do not think there will be a next time," Wynne said gravely. I turned. Flemeth was coming around for another pass, but far lower. She was flying close enough to the ground for me to reach out and touch her. Which was the point. The group scattered again, and there was a terrifying rush of air as the dragon swooped past. Luckily, it seemed we'd escaped her claws. Well... Wynne and Oghren seemed to be ok.

"Wait, where's Zevran?" I turned, and answered my own question.

Zevran was hanging from Flemeth's tail. Even as the dragon flew higher the Antivan assassin clung to her barbed tail, fighting slipstream to climb up.

"What's the crazy bastard doing _now_?" I asked.

Flemeth rolled in mid-air, attempting to dislodge the elf. His grip was tight, and he stayed on. He climbed, slowly but surely, and wound up astride the dragon just between her wings. It was difficult to follow the action from where I was, but he appeared to be trying to find a weak point to stab. Flemeth didn't take kindly to this and rolled over again. The dragon stopped mid-roll, one wing pointed at the ground, one pointed skyward. Zevran couldn't hold on anymore. The elf tumbled off Flemeth's back and rolled down her leathery wing. There was a ripping noise and Flemeth roared in pain. A bloody tear in her wing grew longer and longer. Zevran managed to split the wing almost completely in two before falling off completely. Luckily, he was over Flemeth's hut at the time, and hit the thatched roof. Which collapsed, dropping him inside. Meanwhile Flemeth flapped her ruined wing uselessly, and crashed with enough force to make us stumble. She dug a gouge into the ground with her impact, and struggled to rise again.

Zevran opened the door of the hut and stepped out, bruised and battered. He cracked a grin and took a bow.

"I am _ridiculously _awesome," he announced. "Not the worst thing I've ridden, either."

Flemeth let out an enraged roar and rose, spewing fire. The flame spurted from her nostrils in a V shape. Her fire passed either side of me, cutting me off from the others. She snarled, and charged. Frozen in terror, I couldn't move in time. Bone-crushing weight bore down on me, and I screamed in pain. I was flat on my back, unable to even breathe under the dragon's weight. Flemeth's maw edged closer, and I saw the first flickers of her fire breath in the back of her throat. She reared back to attack.

There was a piercing scream and the crushing pressure on my chest was relieved. I coughed and choked, desperate to draw air. I looked up, and saw a spear thrust into Flemeth's foreleg through a gap in her scales. My spirits rose. Malcolm had come back.

Suddenly, Flemeth's voice began to echo around me. Clearly it was the dragon speaking, but the voice appeared to be coming from nowhere.

"The hound strays. Betrayal carries a price," the wounded dragon said.

"One that I will pay," Malcolm replied, viciously twisting the spear. Flemeth snatched up the Warden with her other claw, squeezing him with unearthly strength. Malcolm cried out in pain and let go of his spear. Flemeth raised the Warden to eye level and glared at him. Malcolm managed to free an arm from her bone-crushing grip, but he was too weak to pull himself free.

"Tell me, what could make a stray abandon all he worked for?" Flemeth's voice asked mockingly even as fire welled in her maw.

"Even a stray has pride," Malcolm snarled. His hand went to his belt.

Flemeth screamed in agony. Malcolm's axe was buried in her left eye. Her breath was diverted at the last second, missing Malcolm narrowly. Despite this I heard the sizzle of burning flesh, and heard Malcolm scream. He was tossed aside like a ragdoll. Flemeth thrashed and convulsed in agony, clawing at her own face to remove the axe.

"Now!" Wynne called.

Zevran ducked beneath the dragon, deftly evading her thrashing limbs to strike at her exposed underbelly. Flemeth let out fresh roars of pain. I charged forward and drew the Green Blade with my left hand. I brought both blades down on the dragon's snout, and they bit deep. Zevran ducked back out from underneath her just before she slammed into the ground, almost crushing him. Flemeth gathered her strength for one last burst of flame. Oghren was charging, and I darted in front of him. I raised my swords, and a translucent shield appeared in an arc in front of me. Distracted by me diverting her fire, Flemeth didn't see Oghren until it was too late.

The dwarf's hammer smashed through her scales with the first strike. The second broke a few teeth loose. The third knocked Malcolm's axe out of her eye. The fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh... I lost count. When Oghren had finally tired himself out the dragon's skull was a putrid mess of bone, scale and blood. He leaned his hammer against the carcass and panted.

"Let's see 'em do THAT back at Orzammar!" he shouted, exhilarated. I didn't comment. I raced over to where I had seen Malcolm fall. I stopped briefly when I saw him. He was a mess. He wasn't moving much, and he was covered in bruises and cuts. But worst of all, his face... His good side was facing towards me, but I could still tell it was bad. I raced to his side.

"Malcolm, can you hear me?" I asked.

"Aye..." he wheezed. "Is that bitch dead?"

"Y... yeah. She's dead."

"Good. The world is better off without her kind..." the Warden trailed off into a wet gurgle. He struggled to compose himself.

"I... I think I am dying..." Malcolm said to himself.

"No you're not."

Malcolm managed a chuckle. "Naïve to the end, lad. Leave a bitter man to die in peace."

"No," I repeated, louder. "You're not going to die. I won't let you!"

I pressed my hand against his chest and screwed my eyes up tight. I felt the magic in me. I could call it myself. I knew I could. I didn't need _her_ help. I could feel every last injury in the Chasind man's body, from the shattered bones to the burns. He was close to the end.

The power flowed. I thought of the memories I'd experienced. Thought of the way Katrina's face lit up when she'd seen him coming home safe. Saw the love and admiration etched on Claire's face when she saw him. Most importantly, I thought of that bright spark in him that had burned through the darkest times, never flickering, never wavering.

My breath caught. I felt fatigue draping over me like a lead blanket. His injuries were too severe, too extensive. I pushed harder, forced the magic to flow. I started feeling light-headed. My fingers and toes went numb. I felt like I was about to pass out.

I felt another hand on mine, and the exhaustion vanished. I opened my eyes. Wynne looked at me reassuringly.

"Come Ventus, we have work to do," she said. "Follow my lead."

I concentrated again. I felt Wynne and Faith there with me. I had the power, but I was too imprecise, too unskilled. The healing needed focus that I lacked. Wynne took over. I felt her exploring the injuries, pulling flesh together, moving bone fragments back into line. I gave her free reign over my power, and she used it with all the precision and expertise of a master surgeon. We knelt over Malcolm's body for what seemed like forever, but at last we were spent. I slumped back, panting and sweating like I had run a marathon. Wynne sat nearby, holding her head.

"How is he?" I asked.

"He will live," she replied. "He requires much more healing, though. I know not how long it will take for him to recover.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Wynne couldn't shut us up that night at camp. We were talking excitedly about our roles in the fight, Oghren punctuating his ever more ridiculous accounts with a swig of his ale. By the end of the night there had been three dragons and he'd fought them without any pants. When I asked Zevran why he'd thought to jump on Flemeth, he replied that his career often required him to mount dangerous things. I changed the subject after that. Meanwhile I was praised for the quick work with the shield. All in all, a good night.

Except for Malcolm, of course. After dinner I went to his tent. If it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of his chest I would have thought he was dead. His head was swathed in bandages that only left the damage beneath up to the imagination. His uncovered eye slowly opened and looked at me.

"Come to... bother me... again?" he wheezed.

"Don't talk," I said. I crouched over him and cracked my knuckles. Wynne had begun to teach me what she knew about healing, so I felt I had a better handle on it. I concentrated, and a nimbus of gentle blue light flared around my hands. I passed them over his chest, trying to free up his breathing.

"Is this helping?" I asked. He nodded, but started coughing explosively. My hands moved up to his throat, and I felt a slight sizzle as the magic encountered a more serious problem. I pushed harder, trying to fix whatever it was, but just ended up tiring myself out. The light winked out.

"Sorry I can't do more," I said.

"No... I feel much better now," Malcolm replied, his voice still hoarse. "More than a traitor deserves."

"You're not a traitor," I said sharply.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but when I used blood magic on you I looked into your mind," I admitted. "While I was there, I saw your memories."

His expression was unreadable. "Go on."

"I saw the one with the bear in winter."

"Shoulder wasn't right for a week. Almost cost me my life," the Warden replied. "And?"

"I... well..." I said awkwardly. "I saw how you were with them. Saw how happy you were. When I do something like that I feel the emotions that go with the memory, and what I felt there was the kind of happiness people can go their whole lives searching for. They were your _world_. I can't blame you for wanting them back."

"... she would have removed the taint," he said. "She was going to make me normal again."

"Malcolm... I don't know if that's even possible," I said, "Even for someone as powerful as Flemeth."

"But what am I to do?" A helpless tone crept back into the normally stoic Warden's voice. "They could be anywhere. And I am to remain a Warden forever."

"We'll find a way," I said. "I promise."

* * *

_Thou art I, and I am thou._

_The bond thou hast nurtured hath finally matured._

_The innermost power of the Tower Arcana has been set free._

_You have forged a bond that cannot be broken._

* * *

When I left Malcolm's tent I found Wynne waiting near mine.

"Impressive work with the healing today," she said. "I look forward to helping your studies in that area."

"Thank you," I replied, "But I need to ask you something."

"Of course, Ventus. Anything."

"I... I've lost my memory."

"What?" Wynne was confused. "How could this happen?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "The last thing I remember is waking up at Ostagar. Everything else is this... blur. Like fog. But at the Circle, you recognized me. You met me at Ostagar. What did I tell you?"

Wynne cast her mind back. "You said you joined the king's army for a chance at a new life. I asked you why. You told me that your family lived a very hard life, and that you were going to help them any way you could. You also mentioned atoning for a past mistake."

"Where?" I asked. "Where am I from?"

Wynne looked at me oddly. "From the Denerim Alienage."


End file.
